Parterre
by Psycha Dea
Summary: Conclusion: in an M-rated double bill, our doctor finds herself on the threshold of the counselor's quarters. Will she take that last step, or turn back?
1. Chapter One: Family

_Title:_ **Parterre,** Season four, **Chapter One: "Family"  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Rating:_ PG-13, for some naughty words  
_Codes:_ C, T

_Summary:_ A wise man once said; "_Nothing worthwhile is easy_" and Doctor Beverly Crusher is just about to find out how right he was, especially in matters of friendship and love.

_Disclaimer:_ They're not mine, no profits are being made from this story. General plotline and any additional characters are mine and copyrighted as such. You're welcome to use anything you come across, but please remember to give credit where due ;)

_General A/N:_ This romance series is going to explore an evolving relationship between the two female Senior Staff officers onboard the Enterprise D. We start in TNG's fourth season and each chapter will be tied into a specific episode (at least during this season) and will be titled after each respective episode. I will skip around a bit and not use every episode. Since this will be an ongoing series (hopefully anyway ;)) the number of chapters will be subject to change at any given moment.

_Feedback:_ Any type is welcome, even flames. Criticism is especially appreciated though. You can leave feedback by sending a direct e-mail to _psychafairy at yahoo dot co dot uk_ or just use the wonderful review option available here.

Hope you'll enjoy :)

-Psycha

**

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Chapter One: "Family"**

Long lashed eyelids slid closed, covering the coal-black eyes of the Enterprise's counselor. Full red lips parted on a sigh and enveloped a silver spoon, drawing the cool, soft ice-cream deep in a mouth where it melted on a warm and agile tongue. Full, inviting breasts heaved against the purple material of a dress and a soft moan traveled outward with the spoon.

Beverly Crusher shook her head and looked to her side, intently watching the young male lieutenant sitting a few tables away. He was masculine, his yellow and black uniform nicely fitted against his broad chest and when he stood up she was treated to a nice view of his ass. A small smile tweaked her lips when he bent over.

"He's engaged." The soft, alluring voice broke her concentration and Beverly reluctantly turned her head back to look at Deanna Troi. "To one of your nurses actually." Her companion added while she brought another spoonful of chocolate ice-cream to her mouth.

Glancing back at the man, Beverly now recognized his face and blushed. "I, I was just—"

"Enjoying the goods?" Deanna finished gamely. "I suppose he's nice, for a human male."

Beverly arched her eyebrow, relaxing a little now that her mind was back on safe territory. "You 'suppose'? Not your type then, is he?"

The counselor chuckled and carefully collected the remaining bits of ice-cream on her spoon. "I've never really figured out what my 'type' is. But I don't think he's very appealing, physically or emotionally."

"Well, he's no Will Riker, I'll grant you that." Crusher teased her friend, then felt guilty when she saw the expression on Troi's face turn wistful, but before she had a chance to apologize the counselor responded.

"Good old Will," she sighed, "is not really who I'm looking for either."

Surprised, Beverly looked into her friend's black eyes. Why, did she wonder, did this admission come as a surprise to her? She had discussed the First Officer many a time with Deanna, and Troi had never truly hinted at desiring to rekindle with him. For some reason she had just assumed.

Especially with all the changes their lives had undergone in the aftermath of Picard's assimilation, and the Enterprise's first visit to Earth in over three years, she had somehow expected her friend to re-evaluate her life, just as she herself had been doing. And, she had expected the counselor to realize her love for Riker, just as the grapevine had been predicting for years. Now that Deanna explicitly stated that she didn't feel that way for him anymore Beverly was surprised, and maybe a little relieved as well.

"Really?" She gazed past Deanna's shoulder, staring at a group of ensigns while she settled into girl talk mode. Occasionally shifting her eyes back to Troi's face. "You two seemed very cozy after your return from Angel Falls." The surface of the table suddenly became very interesting as Beverly detected a hint of jealousy in her own voice. Hopefully Deanna had missed it, she seemed occupied enough with her chocolate sundae.

The counselor chuckled and the mischievous glint in her eyes captivated Beverly, a part of her dreading what caused it, but the larger part of it curious as a cat. "Well, I'm not going to say we didn't enjoyed each other," Deanna winked and slowly licked her lips, making Beverly shift nervously in her chair, "but at the same time it wasn't a rekindling, or a promise for more."

Crusher sputtered, a multitude of images cluttering her brain. "How? How do you separate between love and sex so clearly, I mean." She clarified when Deanna carefully arched her eyebrow. "Especially with the history you share with him."

"It's complicated. Will and I have become close friends over the years, I know that whatever I do or say he won't judge me. I can also tell that he isn't interested in pursuing an actual relationship. With all the stress we've been under recently it just felt…right. Comforting, relaxing, enjoyable, fun."

Beverly nodded, tearing her eyes away from Deanna's sensuous lips when they stopped moving. "So what was he like, compared to, you know, the past." She found herself actually leaning closer in anticipation of the answer, the images in her mind becoming more defined..

"Beverly!"

"Well," she complained, "it's not like I'm getting any."

Silence prevailed and Crusher nervously downed the remainder of her wine, momentarily forgetting that Guinan had given her the real stuff for a change. "Fine." Deanna said suddenly, the glint in her eyes growing in intensity. "What do you want to know?"

Beverly coughed, choking on her wine. She felt warm blush rise to her cheeks and looked away, trying to hide her surprise at Troi's forwardness. It took too many embarrassing seconds before she'd calmed down. Unceremoniously swiping her sleeve across her mouth she met Troi's eyes. "What?"

Deanna smiled sweetly at her, providing a new visual to go with the 'wolf in sheep's clothing' expression. "Anything you want to know, just ask."

Now it was Crusher's turn to smile. Her friend was expecting her to back off, she could tell. She wouldn't back down that easily though. "Anything?"

"Anything." The raven haired counselor confirmed.

Rising to the unspoken challenge Beverly licked her lips and leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Where did you…?"

"Fuck?" Deanna finished helpfully, whispering the word she herself had swallowed. "There was an amazing place at the foot of the falls, secluded enough and with the sun warming the water that streamed over huge, smooth rocks."

"Sounds lovely. So tell me about Will." She winked at her friend. As a doctor she'd seen Riker nude several times yet she found herself curious to hear how Deanna would describe him.

"He's…strong." She could almost see Troi's eyes darken with the memories, the softly accented voice taking on a husky tone that sent a thrill through her own body. "And broad. And he has a hairy chest."

Beverly guffawed when Deanna wrinkled her nose in what only could be described as distaste. "You don't like that?" she questioned, trying to hold back a chuckle.

Troi ducked her head and smiled, amused with herself it seemed. "I do actually, it feels nice and coarse. Just when I think about it it seems so…"

"Disgusting?"

"Alien," the counselor corrected, "Betazoids just don't have hair on their bodies, only on their heads. In spite of being half human it's the same for me." A curious expression crossed her face. "Some times I wonder what it would be to have pubic hair. Will's is so cute and curly."

Startled, Beverly stared at her friend, suddenly wondering what she'd gotten herself into. Deanna hadn't told her anything new, and yet the way she'd said it, with that voice, created very different images than medical texts and examinations. Self-consciously Crusher crossed her legs and fought to keep from blushing. "Be glad," she blurted before she could catch herself, "it's hell to trim. But we were talking about Will, what does he do to you?"

Their eyes locked. She could see Deanna's black irises move as if she was literally reading her. Quickly she thought of Ferengi. Ferengi in the shower, singing. Two singing Ferengi in the shower. Her mind recoiled from the thought and to her relief Deanna looked away.

"He likes to nibble." Troi confessed. "On my ears, my lips, my neck and he's good at it too." Beverly tried to get the Ferengi out of the shower, enjoying the expression that was settling on her companion's lovely face. "Especially my breasts." Deanna chuckled. "He's such a breast man." And the Ferengi were out, replaced by someone far more familiar.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Unbidden her eyes fell down to the slanted neckline of Troi's dress.

"Hmmm, he does like to ogle. Not that I mind, it's flattering. He has amazing hands, rough and tender at the same time. And very skilled. He knows just how to caress and tease. I love it when he kisses me while putting his hands to good use."

Inhaling deeply Beverly smiled back at her friend, drinking in the glow that settled on her face. "I know what you mean. Jack was never good at multitasking, except in the bedroom." She surprised herself by bringing up her deceased husband so easily.

Deanna reached out to her and put a hand on top of hers, squeezing in support and withdrew almost instantly. Beverly let her gaze linger on her hand, the warmth of Troi's touch still burning her skin when Deanna picked up their conversation. "Will likes to tickle my stomach when he's on his way down."

"Are you ticklish?"

"Not at all," Troi denied sarcastically, "are you?"

"Only in some places."

"Where?"

Beverly hesitated, not sure if she liked the intent in the counselor's eyes. "You know, the usual; my armpits, the undersides of my feet." She waited for Deanna to reply, but the Betazoid seemed quite happy to let the silence between them drag on. "The underside of my breasts and the inside of my thighs too." She added nervously, just to break the silence.

Deanna stood up, for a second looking down at her, her black eyes alight with laughter. "I'll remember that. I have an appointment in a few minutes, I'll see you tomorrow to go through the reports."

"Goodnight." Numbly she watched Troi walk out of Ten Forward, unsure if she'd heard her friend correctly and wondering if Deanna's walk had always been that alluring.


	2. Chapter Two: Remember Me

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Two: **"Remember Me"**

_Author:_ Psycha (deadestiny **K+** (PG)

_Codes:_ C, T

_Parts:_ Unknown

_Summary:_ A wise man once said; "_Nothing worthwhile is easy._" And Doctor Beverly Crusher is just about to find out how right he was, especially in matters of friendship and love.

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**Chapter Two: "Remember Me"**

Warily Beverly Crusher looked at the faces around her, wishing she could make her friends and colleagues understand how horrible it had been to be trapped in that warp bubble, to have everyone around her, everyone she cared about, disappear.

A hand closing around her own shook her out of her thoughts. She turned to her side and found empathic eyes watching her, troubled with emotions. Beverly managed a small smile to assure the counselor that she was all right and averted her eyes to Jean-Luc.

He met her eyes and she could see a multitude of emotions in his hazel ones. A quiet understanding passed between them. He was glad to have her back in one piece, and she was glad to have her trusted friend back.

The warm hand withdrew from hers and when she looked back to Deanna, Troi had turned to face the captain as well.

"Then," Picard's strong voice concluded the meeting, carrying easily through the observation lounge, "I think we can close this particular investigation." The senior staff officers nodded, herself included. "We're glad you found your way back Beverly." He said warmly, stepping off protocol by using her first name.

Beverly smiled. "As am I. It's no fun running a starship all by yourself; the paper work would've killed me." Behind her Riker and LaForge chuckled good-naturedly and even Jean-Luc cracked a smile. Data just stared at her with inquisitive yellow eyes, not dissimilar from Troi's expression. The way the empathic counselor looked at her told her that Deanna knew precisely what was going on in her head.

"Will you stop by my office later today?" Deanna inquired neutrally.

In spite of Troi's easy-going attitude Crusher was well aware that a counseling session wasn't optional. Deanna would find away to talk to her. "Would it be okay if we talked now?" There was no point in putting it off, she figured. At least if she got this over with now, she could spend the rest of the day with Wesley.

The counselor looked up at her in surprise and squinted her black eyes ever so slightly. "Of course."

They made their way to Troi's office without exchanging a word. Beverly smiled politely at the various crewmembers they encountered and let her gaze occasionally drift to the counselor. Having arrived at their destination, Troi unlocked the office and proceeded inside, leaving her to follow. She couldn't stop herself from watching Deanna's feminine figure.

It was a bit strange to be in the office, the only times she came here was to pick Deanna up for lunch or work-outs. Their counseling sessions had, until now, always been set in their quarters or in one of the recreational area's of the ship.

The soft lighting reflected off several pastel colored paintings and a black and white sketch that hung above the desk. Large green plants were located in the corners and a vase full with flowers stood on the glass table in front of the long curved couch. The decorations set off nicely against the stark grey of the walls and created a room that was pleasant to the eye.

Beverly sat down sideways on the couch per Troi's unspoken suggestion and watched as the counselor sat down a few feet away, unbidden following the curve of her slender waist and hip outlined by the fitting bodice of the counselor's dress. The subtle scent of Deanna's perfume wafted through the air and Crusher inhaled it deeply, then caught herself. "I came to see you," she confessed, trying to cover up her embarrassment. "In the bubble I mean."

Black eyes regarded her solemnly for long seconds before asking a simple "why?"

"I thought I was going crazy." She shivered, the memories of the utter desolation she had felt still strong.

"Thinking that you're going crazy is often the first sign that you're not." Deanna replied with just a hint of amusement in her voice.

"That's what you said." Her smile turned into a sigh. "It was horrible. People just kept disappearing and nobody remembered them, like they had never existed to begin with."

"But you remembered them."

Deanna's gentle voice lulled her into a sense of safety for the first time since she'd escaped from the imploding warp bubble. Her eyes came to rest on the junction between Troi's neck and shoulder. "Yes, I did. Not that it did much good. Jean-Luc was supportive, and he believed me. But eventually even he thought I'd lost it. Just when I convinced him that I didn't need to confine myself to Sickbay he disappeared too."

It was hard to cope with the loss she felt, even though she knew that the real Jean-Luc had been, and was fine. It had been such a shock to have him disappear in the blink of an eye, especially after all the time she and Deanna had helped him to heal from his assimilation.

"I just couldn't understand it. Everyone disappeared into thin air. First Dalen, then random crewmembers and no one was any the wiser. Worf disappeared and none of you even realized he'd ever existed. Then Wesley," Beverly swallowed and tried to hold back her tears, "Data, Will, Geordi…you." She lifted her eyes briefly to meet Deanna's and let her body slump further into the couch. "Jean-Luc didn't even know who you were, and when he disappeared too the computer thought it was perfectly logical for me to run a galaxy class starship all by myself! I don't ever want to feel like that again." She finished on a whisper.

She caught her breath when Troi reached out and placed a comforting hand on her knee. Was it just her or was Deanna becoming more tactile lately? The warmth on the counselor's face and in her touch distracted her from her distraction. "The universe, no, the warp bubble," she corrected, "was closing in on me. I had to run to Engineering or…"

"Or you would have disappeared too." Troi finished softly.

"Yes. It was terrifying, I didn't want to forget, or be forgotten."

"How do you feel now, looking back on the experience?"

Shaking her head Beverly stood up, Troi's hand sliding off her knee made her skin tingle briefly. Ignoring the tingle she began to pace through the office, uncertain how to put her feelings into words. "Relieved, of course. I hugged Jean-Luc and Wesley in Engineering. I don't think either of them appreciated that much." When she paused to look at Deanna, she could tell by the twinkle in her black eyes that the counselor didn't agree. "Well, maybe Jean-Luc did, a little." She joked.

Troi wouldn't smile, or laugh and her blank expression unsettled Crusher a little. "How else are you feeling?"

"Frightened. I don't want that happening to me again." That earned her a smile.

"I can see why not. Anything else?"

Beverly shook her head. Of course Deanna would sense it. After another trip to the far wall and back, she let herself fall into the couch, not noticing how close to Troi she was until she'd made herself comfortable. With a heavy sigh she glanced up at the counselor and looked away again. "I'm angry." As she said the words she could feel the emotions rise. Embarrassed she tried to ignore them.

"Why?" She really hated those open questions and it wasn't often that her talks with Deanna resembled, however remotely, a counseling session. "Beverly." Her head shot up back to the counselor. The way her name fell off those lips…

"Yes I'm angry! I thought people I cared about were disappearing into oblivion. My son, my friends! I thought I was going insane and then it all turned out to…" Words escaped her. It had all turned out to be what? A nightmare?

"You invested strong emotions into people who you thought were your friends, only to find out that your real friends had been safe and sound all along. It wasn't just a nightmarish experience. You lived it, breathed it. Every part of you, every one of your senses told you it was real."

"But it wasn't," she completed. "I felt as if I'd been used as some kind of marionette, even though the universe was created entirely from my thoughts. I could have killed myself and I wouldn't have know it."

"But you didn't. You got out alive and we're all still here." Deanna's eyes shimmered with emotions. "You feel cheated because you felt all that pain for an illusion." Deanna leaned closer to her, so close that Beverly could clearly feel the warmth radiating from her. Ruby lips smiled gently at her, then pulled away. Troi stood up and she followed. "I'd like to talk to you again tomorrow."

"All right." Startled she held still when Deanna moved to hug her, then returned the embrace stiffly, too aware of the warm body that was pressed against her own. What the hell was happening to her?

"Go spend some time with Wesley," Troi coerced, "I bet there are a lot of things he wants to talk about with you." Beverly nodded and gingerly stepped out into the corridor, writing the flush she felt off to the after effects of her ordeal.

_...tbc_

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_Like it, hate it? Let me know :-)_


	3. Chapter Three: Future Imperfect

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Three: **"Future Imperfect"  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Rating:_ K  
_Codes:_ C, T  
_Summary:_ After a few weeks of uneasiness, Beverly begins to realize the underlying course and acts accordingly…

**

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Chapter Three: "Future Imperfect"**

"How is he doing?" Beverly turned her gaze to the young woman across from her when she was sure the first officer was out of hearing range. The exhausted expression on the counselor's face was hard to miss, especially for a doctor.

Deanna sighed and tore off a piece of bread. "He's coping, trying to deal with the memories." She tucked the bread in her mouth and chewed slowly. "Barash showed him a future that seemed perfectly real and probable, with the exception of his wife."

"Minuet."

"Yes, a hologram. She couldn't have been real."

Crusher nodded and took a sip of her wine. "Figures that his track record with women would be the thing to help him see through the hoax." Deanna's laughter made her smile, it was good to see the worry lines in her friend's face disappear for a short while. "Quite a birthday present."

Troi nodded and looked thoughtfully at a point on the table's surface. "It might be a blessing in disguise," she said slowly. "For a while he was a father, a widow and a captain. It's making him consider the path he's taking."

"I have to admit I was surprised when he turned down his own command, again." The changes in Troi's expression were minute, but Beverly felt as if she knew every thought that fluttered through that pretty head.

"You returned here after Starfleet medical, why?"

Black eyes implored her, the counselor's mask betraying nothing but gentle amusement. "I didn't like the work." Deanna shook her head and Beverly knew she saw right through her cop-out. "The Enterprise is still the flagship, a better position just isn't available."

"Is that why you came back here?"

With a sigh she relented, scanning the area around them out of habit and spotting Riker and LaForge near the bar. "Not primarily. Wesley was still here and Jean-Luc, Will, you…I felt comfortable here."

"So does Will," Troi shared, "so do I. The Enterprise is more than a position, it's an extended family."

"But I thought he wanted his own command."

"So did I." Deanna whispered softly. "People change."

"Sickbay to Doctor Crusher."

With a roll of her eyes Beverly acknowledged the hail, a part of her grateful for the interruption. "Crusher here." It had been a while since she and Troi had shared lunch together, in the last few weeks she has felt increasingly exposed in the counselor's presence. The conversations they shared had become more personal and intimate amplifying feelings she was trying hard to deny.

"Doctor, Doctor Selar is requesting your assistance."

"I'm on my way." Adrenaline was already starting to rush through her body, preparing her for a potentially high risk operation. "Sorry to cut this short," she lied to Troi, abruptly standing up.

"Dinner in my quarters tonight?"

Taken by surprise Crusher paused mid-step, her eyes flicking over the pale skin that set off against the dark red of Deanna's uniform. "Uhm, I'm not sure how long I'll be. Maybe some other time." She pretended not to see the disappointment in black eyes and hurried off.


	4. Chapter Four: The Loss

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Four a: **"The Loss"  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Rating:_ T  
_Codes:_ C, T  
_Summary:_ After Deanna's experiences in _The Loss_ there are some apologies to make and Beverly's avoidance policy is effectively blocked.

**

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Chapter Four a "The Loss"**

Feeling slightly nervous, doctor Crusher arranged several medical instruments on a sterile platter. The events of the last days played in her head as she toyed absently with her tricorder. The Enterprise had been caught by an unknown force, and was slowly pulled towards a lethal anomaly. The ship's counselor, Deanna Troi had suffered some kind of brain damage and although it was clear, now that they had escaped from the two-dimensional beings that had somehow trapped them, that Deanna's brain has "just" been overloaded, she still worried a little about her friend.

With a sigh she rearranged the instruments, keeping herself busy until her patient and friend would arrive. It was difficult to forget about Deanna's outburst against her and although she had told her friend that all was forgiven, she hadn't really forgiven herself yet. Troi had been right, if she hadn't stayed in Sickbay treating the skinned elbows crewmembers had sustained, she might have responded in time to Deanna's call of distress to prevent the loss of the Betazoid's empathic skills.

Why had she dismissed the counselor's injury as a simple headache? Even after Deanna told her she'd passed out. What kind of doctor, what kind of friend was she? A part of her, the same part that had been the reason she had avoided Deanna altogether the last weeks, knew that she didn't want to see Troi in any kind of pain. It would've destroyed all her self control. Leaning on her arms, her hands on the biobed, Beverly breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the image of Deanna's face that swam before her eyes.

"Beverly?"

Startled she spun around, the voice unmistakable. "Deanna! Uh, here, sit down." She forced a smile to cover up her unease and stepped aside. Her eyes lingered on the burgundy uniform that clung to Troi's figure as she passed and sat down on the bed. "How're you feeling?"

Black eyes looked up at her with a hint of weariness in them. The coal black curls that framed Troi's beautiful face hung limp and beaten and Beverly winced at how vulnerable her friend looked. "I'm feeling fine, just tired."

"I need to run a few tests, after that I recommend you get some sleep." Deanna smiled softly, preoccupying her even as she reached for the diagnostic tool.

"Beverly, about what I said--"

"Shush, I told you, we're fine." With some effort she kept her eyes on the display screen in her hand.

"No, I shouldn't have said those things, I didn't mean them." A soft, warm hand covered her own, obstructing her view of the display. Reluctantly she glanced up at Troi's face, trying desperately to hide the feelings rising inside her. "I wasn't angry at you, you were there for me. You did everything you could." A blush rose on her cheeks and black eyes averted from her own. "I guess I was just mad at myself, for handling things so poorly."

Beverly snorted. "Poorly? I don't think I could've done half the job you did if our situations had been reversed." They both winced at the unintentional reference to their fight. "Data told us how you solved the puzzle. Without your insight, empathic or not, we would never have escaped in time."

"Data would've figured it out, or the captain."

"Bullshit." Startled Deanna looked up into her eyes and without thinking or even realizing it, Beverly reached out to touch her. The skin was warm under her fingers as they trailed along Troi's jaw. "You saved the day Dea and just because you think you're dispensable, doesn't mean we do so as well. I most certainly don't." The smile that brightened Deanna's face warmed her heart.

"Thank you." Troi whispered softly.

Beverly felt herself lean in closer and closer, her eyes fixated on the expressive black ones, but when she felt warm breath caress her lips she jumped backwards. "Right, I'll run the tests now." She couldn't bring herself to look at her patient, absolutely sure she would see shock and disgust on the empath's flawless face.

She moved the diagnostic tool around Troi's head in half circles, repeating the read-outs on the screen silently in her head, all the time aware of the dark eyes burning holes into her temple. "Okay, well, it looks like your brain is still repairing itself, for lack of better words, but there's no major damage. You might experience some dizzy spells and minor headaches for a few days, but with plenty of rest you'll be as good as new."

"Beverly?"

"I'd prefer to keep you in Sickbay for the night, but you probably wouldn't be comfortable here." She continued, intentionally ignoring Deanna's soft plea. "I'll have the computer monitor you though, just in case."

"Beverly, look at me."

She did, but only briefly, the understanding and caring in the black eyes too much to handle. "I can get you a light sedative if you want, but you should really try to get some sleep as soon as possible." With her back now turned to Troi, she could sense the woman getting up behind her and held her breath until Deanna passed her and reached the door of the private cabin.

"Beverly?" The slight hesitation made her look up and the uncertainty she saw, so unlike Deanna, kept her from looking away again. "Would you mind…" the pause was excruciating, Crusher could feel herself stare, unable even to blink. "I could use some company, a friendly face if you will. Would you stay with me? Just for a while?"

"I…" How could she deny her friend this? All the times Deanna has stayed with her when she needed a shoulder, or just a comforting presence, ran through her head. "Of course." She smiled uneasily, but dared resting her hand against the back of Deanna's arm as they walked out into the main area of Sickbay in a gesture of comfort. "I just need to finish up a couple of reports and make sure the evening shift can do their jobs. Why don't I meet you in your quarters in, say, half an hour?"

Her stomach did a back flop when Deanna smiled at her, and then, to her utter shock, stood on her toes and kissed her lightly on the cheek, right in the middle of Sickbay. Feeling a blush rise to her cheeks she quickly glanced around to see if anyone had seen the gesture. When she saw that no one was around, she involuntarily brought her hand to where Deanna's soft lips had met her skin, her eyes lingering on the doors through which her friend had disappeared.

_Tbc in part two…_


	5. Chapter Four b: The Loss

_Title_ **Parterre**, Season four,Chapter Four: **"The Loss"  
**_Author_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Rating_ **K**plus(PG)  
_Codes_ C/T

_Extra__Note:_ I just wanted to drop a big Thank You, to all those who've taken the time to review. The encouraging words are much appreciated and it's satisfying to know people are enjoying this story so far :) I'm intentionally trying to tie the chapters in with Canon for as long as possible and I'm glad to hear that it's (somewhat) succeeded.

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**Chapter Four b: "The Loss"**

Standing just outside the counselor's quarters Beverly tried to find her poise, fighting the dread she felt at having to spend the evening with Troi in a secluded space. She took a deep breath and reached out for the enunciator, then jumped when the doors slid open.

Deanna appeared in the frame, looking… Crusher swallowed, taking in the sight of her friend. The other woman's hair had been released of its bonds, flowing freely down her shoulders and it was still a little damp. "Come on in." Troi invited, looking different than the doctor was used to, but no less beautiful in spite off the lack of make-up. "Make yourself comfortable, I just need to change into something a little more appropriate."

Numbly she nodded and watched her friend disappear in the bedroom, the short robe she was wearing distracting her vision from her surroundings, to the hem of the white material, the backs of Deanna's knees and thighs exposed to her view.

Beverly shook her head and settled down in one of the chairs, breathing slow and controlled in an effort to stop her heart from raging. Why did the sight of her friend have that kind of effect? A statue on her left caught her attention and she stood up to inspect it closer. Carefully she picked the piece of art up and turned it sideways, looking for a familiar shape or pattern but finding none.

"Sorry," Deanna apologized from behind her, "I lost track of time in the shower."

At loss for words Beverly could only stare. Troi wasn't fully dressed yet, the soft green dress she had chosen hung loosely around her frame, showing tantalizing glimpses of the body hidden underneath. She almost regretted it when the other woman fastened the seals, fitting the dress tighter against her body and limiting the exposure of skin to a slit that ran high up her thigh.

"No problem," she assured, then held up the statue in her hand. "Is this new? I've never seen it before."

"Mother sent it." The counselor answered as she settled down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

"It's beautiful, what is it?"

"It's a…a reminder, that I should settle down, have a couple of grandkids, grow a garden, learn to run a household and hire a valet."

Carefully she put the statue back in it's place. "So why display it so prominently?" The gentle laughter made her smile and she was feeling more at ease.

"If you take away Mother's intentions, it's a beautiful artifact. It's very old, coming from a time when Betazoid society was just beginning to define itself. The symbols stand for individuality within one-ness." Absently Crusher noted how cutely Troi wrinkled her nose when she was trying to translate something and having trouble with it. It wasn't often that she was truly confronted with the different culture Deanna grew up in, and when it did come up, they rarely discussed it for more than a few minutes.

"I see." She lied, not really seeing at all. Except maybe for the way the green dress clung to Deanna's figure. "Is it really so different?" She wondered aloud, "Betazoid versus Human I mean."

Deanna thought about it, giving Beverly plenty of time to let her mind wander. She didn't know much about Betazoid culture, it wasn't covered much in the xenobiology courses since the general consensus was that it took a telepath to understand a telepathic society. All she knew about the culture was what little Deanna or her mother, Lwaxana, had shared. Like nude weddings. How many of those had Deanna attended?

Startled by the images her mind came up with she jumped to her feet. "I'm getting something to drink" She announced loudly. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You should drink something, it'll help against the headaches."

"Whatever you say Doctor." Troi mocked. Beverly could feel the black eyes following her and was surprised when she found herself putting an extra bounce in her steps.

She ordered tea and a glass of water for Deanna and brought the beverages to the table. Her friend smiled her thanks and picked up the glass, sipping slowly. "I never thought it would be so different." She answered to the question Crusher had forgotten already. "Maybe that's why I handled the situation so poorly. I never thought I'd be so lost as a human."

Beverly wanted to go over and hug the empath, the sad expression on Deanna's face tugging at her heart. Instead she drank her tea. "I don't think I would've handled it any better if I'd lost my hearing or sight." She hoped it would console Troi a little.

"It's more than that," she met Deanna's gaze, questioning silently. "Betazoids evolved from an amphibian species called Cyndrii Beteas. They used a very primitive form of telepathy to hunt in groups and to maintain their hierarchy. Over time we refined and redirected our skills but one of the most primitive functions is still active. For lack of a better description."

With more effort than she though warranted, Beverly kept her gaze on Troi's face, instead of letting it wander over the other woman's body. "I think I got it," she said slowly, "your telepathy evolved with your species."

"Yes," Deanna confirmed, her lilting accent singing in Crusher's ears. "On the most basic level my empathy is a mix of hearing, sight and telepathy. I don't sense thoughts, but emotions and they are imprinted in my mind as a kind of map." The empathy sighed with frustration. "I don't know how to explain it."

"It's okay. We can talk about something else."

"No, I want to tell you. It's important." Surprised Beverly looked at her, the urgency she heard in the words making her a little nervous. Why was it important for her to understand? "It's like…like standing in a holodeck with only black around you. And for each being that emits emotions there's a light. Some lights are far away, others close by. Some are very intense and others are barely visible. With each shift of emotions the lights change color."

"Like being outside among the stars."

"Yes. When I lost my empathic senses the holodeck became void. I lost my sense of direction, of knowing my place. I couldn't feel other people anymore, like they had been ripped from me and replaced by cheap holo-images. I could hear, sea and touch you, but my mind couldn't verify that you were real."

Beverly wasn't sure how to reply to her friend's heartfelt attempt to explain how her empathy worked. She realize that it must be like trying to explain to a person who had been blind all his life what it was like to see.

"I know it's something that you can't really understand." Deanna spoke up again, her voice non-judgmental and carrying just a hint of amusement. "It's just that humans are such a dual species. There are so many times when you say one thing, but feel and do another. With my empathic skills I can verify that what you say is what you mean, without it I'm lost."

Suddenly Crusher wondered what it was that Troi sensed from her. The way the counselor's eyes watched her seemed to suggest that the woman was well aware of the thoughts that were dancing through her mind. "I'm sure you would've been fine after a period of adjustment." It was a lousy attempt to cover up the alert she felt, but she got away with it.

"I think I'm getting hungry. Is it okay if we eat now?"

"Uh, sure." Her eyes dropped to Deanna's rear. 'Damn it Beverly,' she chided herself. Purposefully she focused her attention on a painting on the wall and was surprised by its composition. "Is that Ferengi-art?"

Deanna laughed. "Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it?" In spite of herself Crusher agreed. "I keep it around to remind myself that everything has a beautiful side."

That was what she loved about Deanna, Beverly thought as she watched her friend scroll through the menu's in the database. She was always accepting and non-judgmental. It was one of Troi's strengths and what made her such a successful counselor. Even after a personal crisis, such as the one of the past few days her friend seemed to have little trouble swallowing her pride and apologize. She wondered how much of that was Deanna's natural way, and how it was the result of her work. Or maybe even of the culture she grew up in.

"What can I get you?" The voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"Anything's fine." She shrugged, then in the spur of the moment requested something typical to Betazed. Deanna looked at her quizzically. "What? Don't think I can handle it?"

The empath chuckled. "You just surprised me." The raven-haired woman turned and spoke in a alien language to the computer. Beverly knew she was just ordering food, but the sounds and tone variations made her feel as if she was listening to something far more intimate.

The plates materialized and judging by their size, Deanna's wasn't just a 'little' hungry. She got up to help her carry the dishes to the dinner table and returned to the replicator to order beverages. In the meantime she watched Deanna bend over to retrieve something from one of the small cabins against the wall. They reached the table simultaneously, she with the drinks and Troi with two candles.

Standing almost shoulder to shoulder, Beverly quickly grew uncomfortable, but the counselor was the first to move away. "The table's getting a little cluttered," she excused, "I'll put these elsewhere." Nodding, Crusher placed the glasses on the shiny table-surface and sat down, sniffing the scent from the lighted candles, recognizing the heady sandalwood immediately. "It helps me relax," Deanna explained as she sat down on the other side of the table. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. What did you get me?"

"Nothing too fancy, it's all vegetarian. Mostly cooked and steamed vegetables and fruits."

"It looks delicious." It really did. The brightly colored mix looked healthy and varied.

"Don't mix the oskoid leaves with the blue berries on your right though," Troi warned, "they really don't go well together."

"Thanks for the heads up." They shared a smile and began their meal, the silver cutlery clanging musically against the porcelain plates.

They ate in silence for a long time, and on more than a few occasions Beverly found herself staring at her companion. Wondering what it would be like to truly know her, the way Will Riker did.

"Beverly?"

Her head shot up. Without a doubt Troi had sense the direction of her thoughts. "Tell me about Betazoid society," she asked before Deanna could say anything else. "Just how typical is Lwaxana?" The other woman stared at her for untold seconds, but she couldn't decipher the message that shone in those black eyes.

"More typical than she'd like to admit." Deanna said slowly after a long silence, the disapproving tone in her voice clear.

"No wonder you have such an uninhibited culture."

Troi shook her head, smiling sadly. Beverly wondered what she'd said wrong, but popped another pink piece of fruit in her mouth, enjoying the explosion of salty juice. "Mother doesn't read people's thoughts uninvited. She likes to tease based on the emotions she senses. It's no different from you noticing black hair, she doesn't have any control over it." Deanna defended. "To her, humans are incredibly uptight and secretive, even when there's no point in being either."

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but her companion seemed unusually defensive, black eyes glittering with annoyance. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"You did." Troi countered harshly, then relaxed. "But it's all right. Most non-telepathic humanoids are intimidated by telepaths. They feel vulnerable and a little paranoid around 'mind readers'. The truth is that very few telepaths actually read minds without permission, but they don't always have control over what they sense and hear, but they're trained to respect other people's privacy and not react to the emotions and thoughts of others."

Beverly absently chewed on an oskoid leaf while she listened to the monologue, unsure of what to say. She got the impression she hurt Deanna by her flippant remark, but the counselor showed little emotion while she finished the last pieces of food from her plate.

"When you walk into a room you notice your surroundings. The color of the walls, where the tables and chairs are located. If there are other people there you identify them. Stranger, acquaintance, friend. Male, female, alien, human etcetera. Telepaths do them same, only along with the visual information they receive mental information. The general state of mind of each person; are they worried, relaxed, happy, unnerved and the thoughts that are sometimes basically thrust into their minds. They can't not feel and hear those, it's as natural as noticing someone's hair color, or their gender."

With her eyes trained at a point just past Troi's shoulder, Beverly let the information sink in, eagerly taking in the sound of Deanna's lilting voice. She had always assumed that telepaths could just turn off their telepathy, like humans could ignore what happened around them, if they so chose. She'd known that Deanna didn't have this ability, but had ascribed that to her friend's mixed heritage. "I guess it's something that just can't be fully comprehended by someone who's not telepathic."

Deanna slumped a little and rubbed her hands against her temples. "I guess," she said dejectedly.

Something was frustrating her, Crusher realized in a flash of clarity. She almost asked what it was, but something stopped her. "How's your head?"

Troi forced a bitter smile. "Minor headache, I'm fine."

She was torn between leaving to let Deanna get some rest and staying. It had been a while since the two of them had spend off-duty time together. Somehow, over the course of the last couple of weeks, if not months, she'd gotten in the habit of avoiding her friend and now that they were sitting here, in Troi's quarters with a delicious meal between them and a lovely view of the space outside framing Deanna's figure, she realized she had missed her friend more than she'd let herself notice.

"I'm sorry." The empath suddenly spoke and she glanced up she saw a blush covering Deanna's cheeks, coloring them rosily. "I'm a little agitated."

"Don't mention it. Do you want to talk about it?" She awaited Troi's answer with a feeling of dread in her stomach. The feeling increased multifold when the eyes that were watching her turned hopeful, then sad and started showing the agitation the other woman was feeling.

"No, thank you." Deanna pursed her lips and averted her eyes. She dropped her head, sending a mass of dark curls falling forwards over her shoulders, then brought her head back up and met Crusher's gaze anew, a gentle but fake smiled displayed on her lips. There was something Deanna wanted to tell or ask her, her doctor's instinct were very clear about that, but she was relieved when Troi brought their conversation back to her native culture instead.

They chatted amicably and discussed various aspects of Betazoid culture and slowly Beverly began to feel like she was really getting to know her friend. All of her unease dissipated completely as she relaxed into the conversation. Even when they moved to the couch and sat closely together, gazing through the viewport at the stars, did it feel perfectly natural and comfortable for Deanna to squeeze her knee while she recounted Wesley's last letter and for her to touch Troi's elbow when the counselor sadly told her about why Lwaxana fluttered from one lover to another, trying to find what she'd once shared with Deanna's father.

Their voices dwindled when they both grew tired, but Beverly didn't realize how late it'd gotten until a head full of black curls came to rest against her shoulder and a soft snore cut into the silence. At first reluctantly, but then with increasing urgency Crusher shook her friend's shoulder, until Troi sat up straight, her eyes alert. "What?"

Beverly was about to ask her friend if she was still having headaches, when Deanna rubbed her fingers in slow circles around her temples. "You should get some real sleep." She said instead, and nudged Troi off the couch.

The counselor stood up and watched her as she rose as well. "Thank you for keeping me company, I was starting to feel like you were avoiding me." Slowly Beverly started to make her way to the door, her eyes never leaving Troi's.

She knew. There was no more place to hide. She shuffled backwards, unable to turn away from her friend. Deanna kept advancing, her eyes ablaze with determination. "Dea, I…" She couldn't find the words, or even the thoughts.

Deanna came closer still, until she was easily within her reach. Beverly felt herself leaning forward and this time when she felt her friend's breath flutter across her lips she didn't pull away. "You never have to hide from me." The soft spoken promise gave her the courage to close those last few inches between them. She held her breath and tentatively brushed her lips against Deanna's, marveling at the soft and erotic feel of the woman's lips against her own. Her stomach knotted itself in a tight ball of pleasure at the rush of emotions that washed over her. It was exactly as she'd imagined, and yet so much better.

She pulled back, the emotions robbing her of her breath and her mind refusing to work. Troi smiled and gentle fingers caressed the side of her face. She felt herself being pulled into another kiss and eagerly caught Deanna's mouth with her own, startling when a warm, moist tongue pushed itself against her lips. Her lips parted of their own accord, and a sigh escaped her. The hand along her cheek guided the kiss as it deepened, her tongue sneaking out to duel with Deanna's. The contact soft and slow, and oh so alluring and when she pulled away it was only out of necessity for air.

But as soon as the cold air around them replaced the scent and warmth of Deanna her mind kicked back into gear. Troi must've sensed it, because she took a step back just as Crusher did the same. Behind her the doors whooshed open. "You have a lot to think about." Deanna spoke quietly, looking almost ethereal with the soft lights of her cabin behind her and a serene expression on her face.

Beverly could only nod and turned into the corridor, her mind a clutter of uncertainties and shock.


	6. Chapter Five: Data's Day

_Title:_ **Parterre**, Season four, Chapter Five: **"Data's Day"**

_Author:_ Psycha (deadestiny at yahoo dot com)

_Rating:_ **K+** (PG)

_Codes:_ C, T

_Summary:_ A wise man once said; "_Nothing worthwhile is easy._" And Doctor Beverly Crusher is just about to find out how right he was, especially in matters of friendship and love.

_Feedback:_ Any type is welcome, even flames. Criticism is especially appreciated though :) You can leave feedback via the websites indicated below, send a direct e-mail via my profile, go to Parterre's homepage (as linked to in my profile) or simply use fanfiction's easyand quick review feature :)

_Archiving:_ The Femme Fuh-q Fest, ASCEM, fanfiction dot net and the Parterre homepage. Anywhere else is fine, but please ask first.

_Author's Note:_ Many apologies for being so late in updating. Real life has been a bitch and the weather was just too good to sit indoors behind the computer ;) I want to thank everyone for reviewing and to those who flamed me privately – thank you for the laughs **-**grin**-** LaSemeuse, I'm honoured you're reading this in spite of not liking the pairing :D

Well, here's the next part, hope you'll all enjoy :)

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****Chapter Five: "Data's Day"**

"Doctor, may I join you?"

The captain's familiar voice jogged her out of her thoughts. She forced a smile, knowing that she couldn't possibly justify turning him down. Her eyes drifted back to the couple dancing a few feet away.

"They match well together," Jean-Luc remarked, following her eyes. "I'm confident they can make a marriage work."

Her heart stopped. "What?"

He stared, his eyes full with confusion. "O'Brien and Keiko." He clarified, nodding over his shoulder to indicate the newlyweds dancing just in front of Riker and Troi.

"O. Yes." Her eyes fell back on Deanna's back. The counselor was moving in fluid, elegant motions, her body close against that of the first officer and her brilliant blue dress hugging every curve of her figure. She could remember the kiss so clearly, every little spark that jumped between their lips, the whisper of promises against her skin. Absently she rubbed her hand over a sore calf under the table, cursing herself for jumping into the dancing lesson with Data without properly warming up first.

Deanna's laughter carried across the lounge. Her head was thrown back, black curls reaching her rear, brushing over Riker's hand. The jealousy she felt surprised her and made her grit her teeth. Since she'd left Troi's quarters two days ago, the woman had constantly been on her mind.

"-ctor?"

"Huh?"

"Beverly, are you all right?" Jean-Luc's concerned hazel eyes met hers and she cringed. "You seem a little occupied."

There was no point in lying. "I am." She was occupied, namely by the way Will was touching her… her what? It had been just a kiss. Granted, a gentle, earth-shattering kiss, but still just a kiss. She had no claim on Deanna whatsoever, and yet she found herself wishing that it would be different.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all. Just lost in thoughts." His strong features shifted slightly, the disappointment barely visible. She knew him too well. "It was a beautiful ceremony."

"Yes." He agreed. She thanked him silently for not pressing the issue. "Yes it was. It's good to see an old tradition survive for this long."

Beverly smiled, beaming at the newlyweds when they passed their table. "They love each other very much." Did she love Deanna? She didn't know. The question had been plaguing her for days. There was so much to think about, to consider. They were best friends, the only two female Senior Staff members. They worked closely together and provided each other with a willing ear and a soft shoulder. Conflicts of interest would be unavoidable, she didn't want to risk losing their friendship. "Did you contact Command yet?" The distraction was meant for herself, rather than him, but failed to serve its purpose.

"Yes." She recognized the grim tone, the flexing of his jaw. He wasn't happy with Command's decision. "They are investigating if T'Pel, no, Selok was privy to any sensitive security information." How would he react if she and Deanna… The two of them shared a long history. There had been times when she thought he'd kiss her, or she him, but they always chickened out. Jack's presence hung between them, she could never not think about her late husband when she was in Jean-Luc's company.

And Wesley. Wesley looked so much like his father, even the way his mind worked reminded her of Jack; quick, precise and difficult t distract. He even looked up to Picard in a similar way as Jack had once had. When had it all gotten so complicated?

"May we join you?"

"Of course!" Jean-Luc invited the couple before she'd even been able to process the question. Deanna sat down at her left side and Will at her right, leaving her with only the table's surface to look at.

"Shouldn't you be dancing Captain?" She smiled at Riker's teasing, all of them fully aware how uncomfortable Jean-Luc was with public displays of affection, even in something as innocent and non-committal as dancing.

"What about you Beverly?" Deanna piped in with a wink.

She groaned, but laughed in spite of herself. "I've done enough dancing for today." The mirth on the counselor's face eased her concerns, but fanned a whole different set of emotions. How could she be acting so normal, after that kiss? Their eyes met and Picard and Riker disappeared into the far background. The subtle scent that she recognized so well from that night in Deanna's quarters hit her full force, going straight to her head. She'd been fighting these feelings for months, but she couldn't ignore them anymore. She was falling for her best friend and she suspected the landing was going to be harsh.

"Are you sure? I love this piece of music." Troi didn't finish the sentence, she didn't have to. Deanna couldn't be flirting with her here, right in front of Will and Jean-Luc, her cheeks began to burn with discomfort.

"I'm sure." She answered timidly, cursing being on call. She could do with a nice drink about now.

"You could teach her a thing or two." The first officer joked, and made a big show of rubbing his shins. Deanna scowled, making Jean-Luc laugh. Beverly just shook her head, feeling even more uncomfortable when Will blew a mocking kiss to the counselor.

"You're just not light enough on your feet Commander."

Her eyes moved from Troi to Riker, observing the level of ease between the couple. They knew each other so well and had built a strong, intimate friendship in spite of their rocky past. She couldn't imagine what it was like. With Jean-Luc she was always aware of the distance he kept between himself and others. They could joke and tease, but any sign of true intimacy made him freeze which in turn made her self-conscious.

The captain agreed with his counselor. "It's never the lady's fault Number One." She didn't miss the pointed look he threw her and smiled, remembering the arguments she and Jack used to have about his dancing abilities.

"I never understood the Terran costume of couples dancing." Deanna exclaimed. "All the dances are based on a leading man and a following woman. Why doesn't the woman lead?"

Jean-Luc sat a little straighter, she recognized the twinkle in his eyes as one of anticipation. This kind of discussion was right up his alley and a glance at Troi made her think that was exactly why Deanna had broached the subject. The empath leaned forward, bringing her attention almost fully to the captain. Beverly couldn't help but notice the cleavage she displayed and swallowed.

"When most Terran dances were created, they reflected the social structure at that time. Most cultures on Earth were patriarchal, this is signified by the man leading the woman." Jean-Luc answered, the glint in his eyes now accompanied by a wry smile. "Dancing was also seen as a sophisticated form of a mating ritual and according to many beliefs of that time, only a man and a woman could mate."

Troi shook her head. "It seems terribly narrow minded to me."

"Earth has a long history," Will defended, a little off-put by the counselor's rejection. "Most cultures grew out of that "narrow mindedness", but a man/woman coupling is in many levels still the 'default' setting, dancing included."

"How about Be-"

The chirp of her commbadge interrupted Picard's question and Crusher quickly reached to answer, grateful for the excuse to tear her eyes away from Deanna. "Crusher here."

"Doctor, Lieutenant Juarez wants to talk to you." Nurse Ogawa's calm voice betrayed nothing but the young woman's level headedness. The Asian woman had only been on her staff for a few months, but had proven herself to be up to the task.

"I'll be right there Alyssa." She stood up and threw an apologetic glance at her friends, then headed to the doors. She fought the urge to look back over her shoulder in spite of having the distinct impression that a certain beautiful alien was drilling holes in the back of her head with two onyx eyes. As she entered the corridor she tried to get Deanna out of her mind to make place for the possible scenario's she could encounter once she reached Sickbay.

The familiar grey/orange exterior of the corridors soothed her anxiety and she held still in front of the LCARS strip on the wall to check her hair, amused with her own vanity. She tucked a wayward lock of red hair back in line and hurried into a nearby turbolift. "Sickbay." She turned to face the doors and was startled by Troi suddenly standing in front of her. "Deanna."

"The captain asked me to make sure you were all right." The raven-haired woman explained as she leaned against the wall, her eyes neutrally surveying the small space. "He said you seemed unusually pre-occupied."

"I'm fine."

"Yes." The counselor agreed slowly, drawing out the word.

"I just have a lot to think about."

Silence dragged on between them and in the small cabin Beverly was assaulted by Deanna's subtle perfume. Her eyes kept going back to the pair of sensuous lips that had turned her world upside down. The temptation to repeat that kiss, the gentle, intimate contact grew by the second. Troi showed no sign of being aware of her dilemma, but she knew better.

She had learned a lot about her friend over the course of the last week. Deanna was trying to give her her space and let her make the choice of pursuing whatever it was between them that had such a strong hold on her, but she wasn't blind. She'd seen the way the Betazoid had watched her and in hindsight it was hard to miss that Deanna had become more tactile with her over the last months. Something was brewing between them. And here, in the enclosed space of the turbolift it sounded wholly unappealing to walk away.

Without knowing exactly how she'd gotten there, she found herself standing right in front of the counselor, their breaths mingling together. Large, black eyes looked up at her and she searched them for the answers to her questions. Deanna didn't move or blink, not even when the lift halted and the doors whooshed open.

The sudden exposure made her jump and she could feel a blush rising on her cheeks. Behind her Deanna released a long breath. Without looking back Beverly darted into the corridor and hurried to her office, holding her breath until the doors closed behind her. She gave herself barely a second to inhale and focus her thoughts before she stepped into lieutenant Juarez' view, readying herself to ease the new mother's concerns.

_...tbc...

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_

_I want to put in a little warning for the next chapter here; this one will be adult-rated and might be a bit confusing because it's basically the same point in time told twice. (Tied in with the episode "**Clues**") Thanks again for your patience and reviews:)_


	7. Chapter Six: Clues

_Title:_ **Parterre**, Season four, Chapter Six **a**: **"Clues"**

_Author:_ Psycha (deadestiny at yahoo dot com)

_Rating:_ **M** (R) for sexual situations.

_Codes:_ C/T

_Summary:_ A wise man once said; "_Nothing worthwhile is easy._" And Doctor Beverly Crusher is just about to find out how right he was, especially in matters of friendship and love.

_Feedback:_ Any type is welcome, even flames. Criticism is especially appreciated though :) You can leave feedback via the websites indicated below, send a direct e-mail via my profile, go to Parterre's homepage (as linked to in my profile) or simply use fanfiction's easyand quick review feature :)

_Archiving:_ The Femme Fuh-q Fest, ASCEM, fanfiction dot net and the Parterre homepage. Anywhere else is fine, but please ask first.

_Author's Note:_ This is a bit of a tricky chapter. Apart from dealing with memory/time issues (I refer you to the episode _-smile-_ ) I've had to tone it down a bit in order to stay within the **M-**rating. In effort to write a well-rounded story I didn't want to tone it down too much.  
If you're uncomfortable with this particular aspect of the story, you can move on to chapter **6b**. To avoid confusion (and because I couldn't figure out how to make it clear in the story) **6a** and b are not the same moment. **6a** takes place after the first time the Paxans wiped the Enterprise's crews memories. **6b** takes place after the second time their memories were wiped.

To make up for not updating earlier, and for me being on a computer-less holiday for the next three weeks, I'll post both chapters today :) Thank you all for the reviews, they really make my day(s)! I'll bring back chocolat for all _-grins-_

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Chapter Six a: "Clues" **

The small round containers filled with frilly scarlet moss seemed so benign. They were, for the most part, but they'd also brought something disturbing to light. Twenty-four hours were missing. What happened during that day, Doctor Crusher could only speculate. For one thing, the moss had grown.

She watched the incubation chambers warily, hoping childishly that if she stared long enough, they would magically answer her questions. Data seemed to be the only one who had any answers, but he was unwilling or unable to provide them. The way the android kept talking in circles unnerved her. When he had taken control of the ship several months ago it had been because his creator had activated a homing device. His actions nearly cost a little boy his life. But Data's creator was dead and Data wasn't posing a threat to the Enterprise or her crew now.

Beverly sighed. Whatever the mystery, Jean-Luc would figure it out. The captain was always drawn to mysteries. For as long as she knew him, and that was longer than she wanted to admit, he had to have answers. Dixon Hill would solve the case of the Diomedian Scarlet moss and the malfunctioning Android.

And then there were Deanna's hallucinations, another piece of the puzzle. She'd examined her friend and had found elevated adrenaline and stress levels. Nothing unusual enough to worry about, in fact her findings hadn't been very different than those of a week ago, when the counselor had come to her, stressed under the emotions of a planet in chaos.

Her instinct told her that Troi's hallucination had to have been more than just any hallucination. She had never seen Deanna that terrified, except for the time she'd lost her empathic abilities.

She sighed, again. That line of thought had been what had made it so uncomfortable to continue the examinations in the counselor's quarters after Jean-Luc and Worf had left. Picard's steady presence had kept her focused and she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she had been a little bit amused by the big Klingon's concern. When the men had left however, only herself and Deanna remained, and between them the kiss they had shared.

They'd made polite small talk, consciously avoiding any intimate subject and Beverly had felt guiltily relieved when she had been called back to sickbay. There had to be a way past this awkwardness, but whenever she tried to find that way she ended up fantasizing about Troi's nude form writhing beneath her own. Like now.

Beverly tried to redirect her thoughts to the mystery at hand, failing that she begrudgingly thought about a young man who'd been in her year at medical school. But the slender, feminine body of her friend would not be chased away. Not even Jean-Luc did the trick this time. Frustrated with her inability to control her own thoughts, and embarrassed by the growing arousal low in her stomach Beverly slammed the small container she was holding against the surface of the desk. The ball didn't break, but rolled onto the floor and under the desk as if it was hiding from her.

"Get yourself together Beverly Howard." She ordered under her breath. Intellectually she knew that her heightened emotions were, at least mostly, the result of the airborne agent Data had released into the ship's air-circulation system, but she also knew the effects should have diminished by now. Instead they only seemed to increase. Almost if there was something in the pit of her stomach warning her that something big was going to happen.

Plastering a pleasant smile on her face she turned back to the doors, hoping that there would be someone waiting for her help. Maybe treating someone would help her focus. She froze when she saw who was blocking her exit. "How long have you been standing there?"

The counselor regarded her solemnly, her black eyes unusually wide. "I wanted to ask if you could give me a sedative. You seemed occupied, I didn't want to disturb you."

The way Troi was leaning against the wall accentuated the curves she had tried to ban from her head just seconds earlier, her cheeks burned hotly. "How long?" She had to know how much Deanna had sensed, she had to know how quickly she could peel that burgundy uniform away from-. "Damn this!"

She didn't dare to look at her friend. Even when she felt the other woman come closer she kept her eyes trained on the floor. This was killing her. She wanted Deanna, but she didn't. Heat exploded on her arm where Troi touched it and she raised her gaze. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable." The remorse was clear in black eyes, but it wasn't the remorse that got to her.

"I can't get you out of my head." Beverly murmured, craning her neck to look past the remorse, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Deanna wanted her, she could see it in her eyes and unlike herself, she realized now, the counselor wasn't afraid to admit it.

The shorter woman met her gaze head on and for a second she was certain Deanna was going to kiss her. Anticipation drummed against her temples. "I'll leave you alone."

"Wait!" Beverly barely registered her own reaction as she grabbed Troi's arm, stopping the empath from walking away. She closed the short distance between them, finding courage where there had been none before. "I want you too," she whispered hoarsely.

Time froze, wrapping her in a wonderful, warm blanket. The heat that flowed between them throbbed insistently in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't aware of moving, and suddenly her lips met Deanna's. Softly and tentatively their mouths brushed together, she shivered. Her breath caught in her throat when Deanna licked her lips and she tangled her hands into the dark mass of curls, her own tongue meeting Troi's.

They moaned into each others mouths and deepened the kiss, at first leisurely exploring each other, but soon the passion burned too hotly and the kisses became hot and demanding. She barely paused when eager hands began to explore her body, and reciprocated in kind, running her hands over the curves of her friend's body. She groaned when Deanna brushed her thumbs over her nipples, even through the fabric of her uniform the erotic contact was intense.

Troi broke their kiss with a playful tug at her lower lip. Black eyes burning with need met her own and heavy breathing filled the air around her. "You're so beautiful." The whispered compliment was accompanied by hands caressing her breasts and rear. She wanted to respond, but coherent thought was robbed from her when a wet mouth sucked hotly on her ear.

She drew Deanna closer and felt a rush of heat between her legs when the younger woman's body pressed flush against hers. She was forced backwards until her legs hit the desk. The containers with scarlet moss were knocked over and rolled onto the floor, but she couldn't care, the hot mouth lavishing kisses on her throat demanded all her attention.

Deanna moaned against the pulse in her neck when she cupped the empath's rear in her hands. Her uniform was burning into her skin and she was almost desperate to feel naked skin against her own. As if her mind had been read, nimble hands started to peel away her clothes.

The air soothed her skin and teased her nipples to full hardness. She leaned back and kicked off her uniform completely while Deanna undressed. Troi's dark eyes slid over her naked body and Beverly suddenly felt uncertain. Deanna's nude form made her knees buckle. How could she not have seen how beautiful her friend was? Her eyes lingered on lingered on large breasts, tipped with the dark brown nipples and on the smoothness of her friend's flushed sex. She felt plain in comparison to the empath's exotic appearance.

Deanna reached out to her and put a hand on her hip, Beverly shivered under the contact. They kissed again slowly while their bodies pressed together, the feel of naked skin against her own was electrifying. "You've been driving me crazy," Deanna whispered against her lips.

Beverly moaned softly in the sheer ecstasy of Deanna's body sliding along her own as the empath kissed down her throat, pausing to nibble on her collarbones before making way down between her breasts. She had to lean back on her arms to keep from falling when Deanna softly kissed her nipples, first one, then the other. Never had she imagined it could be this crazy, this intense, but the warm mouth enveloping her told her that it could be. That it would be.

She couldn't figure out why she'd been fighting this. All she knew was that she wasn't going to fight it again, ever. She gasped and arched her back when Deanna nipped lightly at the sensitive peaks, sending jolts of pleasure through her. "Dea, please."

Troi pulled away and looked up at her with black eyes full of passion. "Want me to stop?"

"Gods no." She barely recognized her own voice. Deanna's laughter only made her insides turn into a liquid heat and the hands rubbing up and down her thighs really didn't help.

"Good, I don't think I could." Whatever Beverly's reaction was going to be to the husky promise, it flew out of her reach when Deanna knelt before her and kissed the insides of her thighs.

She lost track of time, of anything except the agile tongue and nimble fingers that made her moan, gasp and scream. Her knees gave out from under her and she was unaware of the warm body holding her upright. Her mind was a vortex of pleasure so strong she couldn't breathe. After an eternity she became aware of sweet nothings being whispered in her ear and hands caressing her stomach and breasts. "Oh my god," she croaked, turning her head to look at Deanna, "that was…"

"Intense?" Troi smiled brilliantly and kissed her softly.

She nodded. "And then some." Their eyes met and she tried to figure out where to go from here. She'd fallen in love with her best friend and never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that sex between them would be so mind-blowing. She didn't want to give that up. "Dea."

"We have to talk," Troi acknowledged, "but right now we need to get back to work." Her skin chilled aggressively when Deanna pulled away and began to collect their clothes. Her legs and arms were still a bit sluggish, but she managed to dress herself while watching Troi do the same

Standing face to face they looked into each others eyes for long seconds, then Deanna reached up for a leisurely kiss and she felt a familiar desire awaken. "I'm sorry," she whispered in a moment of self-consciousness, "for trying to deny--"

The counselor stilled her with another kiss. "Dinner in Ten-Forward at eight?"

"Ten-Forward?" The idea of having what was bound to be an intimate conversation in such a public place unsettled Crusher. Although, she reflected, it wouldn't be quite as intimate as what they'd just shared. She chuckled mentally and noted with some satisfaction that she hadn't felt this good in months.

She pushed against the hands caressing her rear and openly admired Deanna's cleavage as the counselor adjusted the neckline of her uniform. "I don't think I could keep my hands off you if we were alone." Deanna admitted in a husky voice that send a jolt of electricity through her.

After a final kiss Troi turned and exited the lab, leaving Crusher alone. Beverly kept her eyes on Deanna's backside as long as she could, desperate to keep the concerns forming in her mind at bay. Jean-Luc and Will would just have to deal, she decided firmly and started to collect the containers with diomedian scarlet moss that lay scattered on the floor. A shudder rolled down her spine as she remembered how the containers had gotten onto the floor in the first place. A quick check told her that the research hadn't been compromised.

Working in the lab would never be the same again. As she made her way into Sickbay's main area she couldn't keep the silly, satisfied grin off her face and quickly gave up trying. So what if her staff wondered how it'd gotten there? They'd never guess.

The grin disappeared faster than a Ferengi at a charity event when she saw the big, looming figure in the center of the treatment area. "Hello, Worf." The Klingon officer turned to look at her, one of his large hands wrapped protectively around the wrist of his other arm. He didn't say anything for a dreadful second. Dark intense eyes scanned her body and his nostrils flared with deep inhalation. Beverly held her breath. Would he be able to…? Nah, no way. Not a chance in hell. Absolutely not.

"Doctor." His voice boomed with just a hint of a question.

Not in a million years, she told herself again and smiled politely. "Can I help you?" His eyes squinted, as if he knew… and suddenly she wondered if a million years could be condensed into a single second.

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_That way for the next chapter ;)_ ----> 


	8. Chapter Six b: Clues

_Title:_ **Parterre**, Season four, Chapter Six **b**:** "Clues"**

_Rating:_**T** (PG-13)

_Author's Note:_ See previous chapter please :)

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Chapter Six b: "Clues"**

The small round containers with frilly scarlet moss seemed so benign. They were. So benign in fact that they were nearly extinct. She watched the incubation chambers intently, hoping childishly that if she stared long enough, she would be able to see the moss grow.

When she'd waken up on the floor of Sickbay and was told, upon contacting the bridge, that the Enterprise had unexpectedly traveled through a small wormhole, she knew that her plans to plant the moss would have to wait. What had followed was a long day of treating headaches and minor injuries sustained by falls when the wormhole had knock the crew unconscious.

Beverly sighed. It would take a full day before the rare breeds of diomedian scarlet moss would have grown enough to be taken out of their containers, and then another two or three weeks before she could call the crops successful

She sighed, again, remembering telling Deanna of the complicated process of growing this kind of moss.. They'd made polite small talk, consciously avoiding any intimate subject and Beverly had felt guiltily relieved to be able to chat on and on about something as frivolous as the moss she was planning to grow. There had to be a way past this awkwardness, but whenever she tried to find that way she ended up fantasizing about Troi's nude form writhing beneath her own. Like now.

Beverly tried to redirect her thoughts to the task at hand, failing that she begrudgingly thought about a young man who'd been in her year at medical school. But the slender, feminine body of her friend would not be chased away. Not even Jean-Luc did the trick this time. Frustrated with her inability to control her own thoughts, and embarrassed by the growing arousal low in her stomach Beverly slammed the small container she was holding against the surface of the desk. The ball didn't break, but rolled onto the floor and under the desk as if it was hiding from her.

"Get yourself together Beverly Howard." She ordered under her breath. Intellectually she knew that her heightened emotions were, at least mostly, the result of the airborne agent Data had released into the ship's air-circulation system, but she also knew the effects should have diminished by now. Instead they only seemed to increase. Almost if there was something in the pit of her stomach warning her that something big was going to happen.

Plastering a pleasant smile on her face she turned back to the doors leading to Sickbay's center, hoping that there would be someone waiting for her help to take her mind off her half Betazoid friend. She froze when she saw who was blocking her exit. "How long have you been standing there?"

The counselor regarded her solemnly, her black eyes unusually wide. "I wanted to ask if you could give me a sedative for my headache. You seemed occupied, I didn't want to disturb you."

The way Troi was leaning against the wall accentuated the curves she had tried to ban from her head just seconds earlier, her cheeks burned hotly. "How long have you been standing there?" She had to know how much Deanna had sensed, she had to know how quickly she could peel that burgundy uniform away from-. "Damn this!"

She didn't dare to look at her friend, even when she felt the other woman come closer she kept her eyes trained on the floor. This was killing her. She wanted Deanna, but she didn't. Heat exploded on her arm where Troi touched it and she raised her gaze. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable." The remorse was clear in black eyes, but it wasn't the remorse that got to her.

"I can't get you out of my head." Beverly murmured, craning her neck to look past the remorse, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Deanna wanted her, she could see it in her eyes and unlike herself, she realized now, the counselor wasn't afraid to admit it.

The shorter woman met her gaze head on and for a second she was certain Deanna was going to kiss her. Anticipation drummed against her temples. "I'll leave you alone."

Beverly nodded numbly, stunned by an intense sense of déjà vu, she could have sworn they'd had this exact same conversation before. A sudden flare of arousal hit her like a wall and made her knees weak. Her cheeks burned hotly with embarrassment. A vivid image of Deanna undressing herself flashed before her eyes, and for eternal second she desperately wanted to help the ghostly woman. Instead her eyes lingered on the counselor's backside as the woman left the lab and without knowing how, she suddenly knew exactly how Deanna's naked skin would feel against her own.

_...tbc...

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_A/N: And, confused yet? hehe. Have a great time all, and be ready for a new chapter in three weeks :) (and if you, like want to, you can, like review?_ -smiles sweetly- 


	9. Chapter Seven: First Contact

_Title:_ **Parterre**, Season four, Chapter Seven: **"First Contact"**

_Rating:_ **M** (R)

_Codes:_ C, T

_Feedback:_ Any type is welcome, even flames. Criticism is especially appreciated though :) You can leave feedback via the websites indicated below, send a direct e-mail via my profile, go to Parterre's homepage (as linked to in my profile) or simply use fanfiction's easy and quick review feature :)

_Author's Note:_I'm not really sure what to say [blushes sorry it took so long to update? For those of you who remember this story and are hopefully still interested in it, I really am very sorry for taking two years to post the next chapter. It's probably some kind of record [lol I can't make any promises regarding chapter 8, so keep an eye out ;)

I hope ya'll enjoy!

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**Chapter Seven: "First Contact"**

Hands glided over her skin, testing, teasing, nails scratched lightly over goosebumps and hidden bones and muscles. Her stomach was taut, rippling with fear and anticipation and coated with a light sheen of sweat. She began to tremble when the hands lovingly caressed her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples, making her moan in pleasure then cry out when they pinched.

A distant, distorted, voice whispered to her and words that didn't make sense had no problem arousing her further. Her legs parted of their own accord and she quickly closed them, the fear overruling her anticipation. "Let me have you…" the voice whispered clearly, and on cue the hands slid down her stomach, briefly teasing her belly-button before tickling the soft curls on her mound, gently asking to be admitted. "Let me love you…"

Something warm and wet licked her lips and was followed by a soft, sensual kiss. She opened her mouth to return it, groaning as the tongue slipped inside, dancing with her own so erotically that she parted her legs without further thought. Fingers slipped down, cool against her moist heat. She moaned against the mouth devouring her, grinded her hips against the teasing fingers, wanting, needing more.

Her knees were trembling but she didn't dare to move, her body straining to feel each touch and tease of the slender digits as they explored her intimately. Then suddenly they moved into her possessively, making her back arch as she screamed with the unexpected pleasure. The pressure against her mouth disappeared even as it increased within her. She bucked her hips against the fingers, throbbing and contracting around them and opened her eyes to see her lover.

She caught a glimpse of strong features and hazel eyes before the fingers curled inside her, making her toss her head back and moan, giving voice to the intense pleasure. She forced herself to look again and stared into Jean-Luc's cold eyes. The fingers inside her moved quicker and harder, matching the beats of her heart. She moaned and twisted and clenched and called out his name.

The fingers fell away and she screamed in desolation. Nails scratched sharply up the inside of her thigh, the pain causing her to tear her eyes away from Jean-Luc's and meet those of…

"Deanna!" With her heart beating angrily in her throat Beverly Crusher tried to keep her eyes on Troi, her mind reeling in a desperate attempt to figure out what just happened. Only after a crazy second did she notice that she couldn't see anything. Her body was clammy with sweat and there was a familiar heat between her legs. With a groan she pushed herself up. "Computer, lights." Her office slowly took form around her. "Yep, you're really keeping it together Bev," she congratulated herself, jumping when her commbadge chirped.

The Captain's voice came in short, clipped words through the channel. "Doctor, prepare a basic medical team for beam-down to Malcor three."

A new surge of adrenaline rushed through her veins. "Aye sir." Without missing a beat she forced stray locks of hair behind her ears, stretched her body and grabbed her medkit off her desk. They'd finally found Riker, thank god! On her way to the transporter room she contacted nurse Ntook. Jean-Luc's voice had been strained, too strained. Riker wasn't going to be in good health.

"Here are the test results Doctor."

Beverly Crusher glanced up from her monitor and smiled at the young Asian woman standing at the other side of her desk. "Thank you Alyssa," she said and took the padd the nurse was holding out to her. Quickly she saved the document she'd been working on and headed for the post-operation cabin with the padd in her hand and nurse Ogawa on her heels.

The results displayed on the padd were promising and she was relieved that the long hours of meticulous surgery had paid off. Commander Riker would be as good as new in a matter of days. The trauma he had sustained during his undercover mission on Malcor had been extensive, and aggravated by the beating he took at the capital's medical facility. Thank the gods they hadn't been thirty seconds later.

She halted next to the observation window and watched the commander's prone body. It shouldn't have surprised her to find Deanna there. Whenever the first officer was hurt Deanna was there to watch over him and vice versa.

Deanna's long, black hair lay in neat curls across her back and her lilac outfit outlined her curves seamlessly. "She's been with him since he came out of surgery." Alyssa clarified from behind her, a hint of curiosity in her bright voice. "I tried to tell her that he needed to rest, but she was very insistent."

"She can be very stubborn." Beverly acknowledged with a barely hidden chuckle and stubbornly refused not to acknowledge the relationship between her two friends. "He is very important to her, and she to him." The nurse looked surprised and Beverly grew uncomfortable under the too inquisitive eyes watching her. "Something wrong?"

Alyssa looked into the post-op cabin and glanced back at her. "I just thought you…never mind."

"What?" She searched the nurse's dark eyes for an answer, but the young woman just shook her head and smiled secretively.

"It's nothing Doctor, just my mind playing tricks with me." Alyssa paused and Beverly could swear she was trying not to giggle. "I have to check on a project. You should talk to her." A little confused Crusher watched her assistant leave. She shrugged her shoulders and entered the cabin.

"How is he?"

Beverly stopped in her tracks. "How did you know it was me?" Troi turned to look at her, and tapped a finger against her temple. "Oh." She hurried to the other side of the bed and forced her attentions on the prone body of her patient. Why was it that she kept forgetting Deanna could sense her feelings?

"How is he?"

Looking up she admitted to herself how desirable the raven-headed woman was. Expressive black eyes drew her into a world of openness and allure. Why did Troi have this kind of power over her? "He'll be fine in a couple of days." Deanna relaxed visibly and reached to brush a wayward lock of hair away from Riker's face. Beverly felt a surge of jealousy at the intimate gesture. "We repaired the internal damage and took care of most of his bruises. He'll need to gain strength, but then he'll be as good as new."

"Thank you." She accepted Troi's heartfelt gratitude with a smile she didn't feel. Her emotions were a mess whenever she thought about Deanna, and now… exactly what was going on between the counselor and the first officer? There was a definite attraction between the two, and affection that went far beyond friendship, everybody on the ship had witnessed it. Even Jean-Luc, and that said something. Perceptive as he was, matters of love were never his strong point. In any case, Deanna insisted she and Riker were just friends, so why was she feeling jealousy at seeing the two together?

She sighed. Once again her attention had drifted away from work. "I'll be in my office."

"We are just friends." Deanna remarked out of nowhere, stopping her from walking out the door. How was the counselor able to react to her thoughts so specifically? She couldn't recall that happening before. "What Will and I shared, back on Betazed, will always be important to me and to him. But those feelings have passed."

Beverly didn't know how to respond. She believed Deanna, but the uncertainty remained. What if Riker fell back in love with her? Why was she even concerned about that? This was driving her crazy!

Frustrated she looked at Deanna, ready to end this madness, but concern washed over her when she saw the counselor's stricken features. "Dea? What's wrong?"

Troi shook her head, sending black curls whispering across pale skin and forced a smile. "I'm fine, it was just a fluke." She didn't buy it for a second.

"What kind of fluke?"

"My empathy," Deanna answered, still obviously distracted, "it sort of spiked."

Without hesitation Beverly crossed the room and drew a tricorder out of her pocket to run a quick check on her friend. "How do you mean?"

"It's nothing. Occasionally my empathic abilities change a little. Some times I pick up less emotions than usual, other times more."

"Well," she dropped the tricorder back in her pocket and let her eyes wander over the younger woman's shapely form, looking for any physical signs of trouble, "you seem to be in perfect health. Are you picking up on more emotions now?"

Why did Deanna seem so reluctant to tell her what she was experiencing? Maybe it was because she wasn't empathic herself, or maybe she mistook translation difficulties for hesitation, Crusher couldn't be sure. "Yes, or no. I'm not sure." The wide eyes watching her filled with just a hint of distress and she suddenly felt wholly inadequate to help her friend. So instead of prodding the counselor for a clearer answer she waited and kept a close eye on any physical signs of distress. "It's gone now." Beverly held her eyes for a long second, certain that there was something Deanna wasn't telling her. "I'm sensing more than I'm used to, but…"

"But what?"

"I'm only sensing you more clearly."

Confused Beverly stared at her friend, absently combing her fingers through her hair. "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't have to mean anything." Their eyes locked and suddenly Crusher knew with complete clarity that Deanna was lying. "It doesn't have to mean anything." Troi repeated and turned back to face the commander.

Without hesitated Beverly stepped forward until she was standing closely behind the empath, she reached out to put her hand on Deanna's shoulder but was stopped by an invisible force. Dejectedly she pulled back. "What could it mean?" She asked instead.

Deanna sighed audibly. "Normally," she began softly, "Betazoids form links with those around them. They allow us to read others more clearly, and identify them more easily." She paused and wrapped her slender fingers around Riker's hand. "Some bonds are fleeting. They last only as long as a conversation and then dissolve. Other links are stronger, like those formed between friends, and others stronger still. Bonds between family members for instance, are unbreakable, they will always exist."

"What does that have to do with…us?" Beverly was all too aware of the fragile environment around them. The air was pressing down on her, almost as if it was trying to stop her from breathing. Low in her stomach an uneasy feeling was festering.

Troi ducked her head, but didn't turn around. "We're good friends and as such there's a link between us. It doesn't affect you at all, but it makes it easier for me to sense how you are feeling. But now the link has gotten a little stronger."

"What would cause that?"

The silence lengthened and thickened, tearing the Doctor between waiting and leaving. With each second that passed, she dreaded the answer more. Riker twitched and checking his readings again provided a welcome distraction. All was stable, the drug-induced coma would allow him a few more uninterrupted hours of healing.

Finally Deanna softly broke the quietness and shocked Beverly so thoroughly with her answer, that she almost dropped her tricorder. "Sex."

"W-what?!" It was only by reflex that she caught the diagnostic device.

Their eyes met across the room, Deanna's calm and confused and if her own emotions were any indication, hers were about to pop out of her head. Her heart raced, bouncing around in her chest and throat. "This change," the empath spoke slowly, flexing perfectly manicured fingers, "I've only ever felt it with people I've been… intimate with."

"But… we-I, you…" She halted her objections and forced herself to take a deep breath. "We didn't… I mean we've never…"

"Had sex," Deanna finished for her. "I know."

"Then how?" She couldn't look away from Troi's dark gaze. "I mean, I would've remembered," she added nervously.

A flash of amusement crossed her friend's features. "I should hope so."

Crushed wanted to scream. Her nerves were fried, this dance that had been going on between them had kept her up night after night and what little sleep she got was filled with dreams so intense they seemed real. And while she was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, Deanna seemed quite amused with the whole situation!

Whatever she might have said in response, was however cut off by the sudden chirp of a commbadge. "Picard to Troi."

The counselor reached for her pin without looking away. "Yes Captain?"

"Could you meet me in my ready room, we need to discuss our new guest."

"I'm on my way." Beverly watched her friend stand up and check the first officer over before heading for the door. At the last moment Troi half-turned and looked at her apologetically. "I don't know how it happened Beverly, I'm sorry."

Deanna disappeared and the doors closed before she had as much as opened her mouth. With some relief Crushed turned back to her patient, shaking her head. "I'm going crazy," she confided to the unconscious Riker. "I need a shrink." Unfortunately, the resident shrink was the last person she could talk to.

_Tbc…_

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_You may have noticed…__ still no Beta :( So if anyone's offering… A good kick in the butt might help me to stay on schedule with this story g I'd sure appreciate the help :)_


	10. Chapter Eight: Galaxy's Child

_Title:_ **Parterre**, Season four, Chapter Eight a: **"Galaxy's Child"**

_Rating:_ **K+** (PG)

_Codes:_ C, T, R, LaF, D.

_Feedback:_ Any type is welcome, even flames. Criticism is especially appreciated though :) You can leave feedback by direct e-mail via my profile or simply use fanfiction's easy and quick review feature :)

_Author's Note:_ It didn't take quite as long as last time (yes, I'm proud of that) and I hope you'll enjoy. It's a slower chapter and it will have a part b. I can't give you a timeframe, I guess you guys will have to use the 'alert feature', sorry. In the meantime, thank you all for the reviews, they are definitely a good motivator

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Chapter Eight ****"Galaxy's Child"**

With some gratitude to the chirping of her commbadge, Doctor Beverly Crusher put her novel on the salon table. It had taken her an hour just to read through ten pages. "Crusher here."

"Doctor!" LaForge's cheery voice bounced off the walls. "We're celebrating the coming of age of Junior."

The smile in the engineer's voice was infectious and a little social interaction was just what she needed. "It's a birthday party I wouldn't want to miss," she replied, her spirits already lifting, "I'll be right there."

"Great! LaForge out." Without giving the novel a second though, Beverly headed for the doors. Passing the mirror she paused. No one would be surprised if she showed up in her uniform and lab coat, but she chose the get changed. It was a party after all.

She'd thought about the encounter with 'junior', as he'd affectionately been named, on and off all day. It wasn't every day that a Starfleet physician got to perform a caesarian on a life form that lived and died among the stars, without the protection of an atmosphere. Still, in spite of having successfully delivered and weaned the baby, she felt guilty about its mother's death. That guilt had held her captive in a lingering sadness.

The jovial atmosphere of the lounge enveloped her as soon as she crossed into Guinan's part of the ship. As usual most of the tables and barstools were occupied and the buzz of excited conversations, occasionally outshined by peels of laughter, was familiar and uplifting.

A large gathering around one of the tables in the center drew her attention and as Beverly approached she could make out Riker and LaForge in the middle. "Doctor!" Geordi greeted her cheerfully and she accepted the chair Riker held out.

Before she could respond, Data appeared at her side. "Would you like a biscuit with rodents, Doctor?"

It was only through years of experience that she could keep her initial shock and disgust at bay long enough to glance at the silver plate the android held out to her. "What is it Data?"

She could swear there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes, as if he looked forward to explaining his offering. "It is an old European custom. In a small country in Europe, called The Netherlands, people would eat this when a child was born. The literal translation is "biscuits with little mice."

"It's quite good," Riker cut in and picked up one of the colorfully decorated round disks, holding it out to her. Slightly hesitant Beverly accepted, avoiding the eager eyes of Data.

"Traditionally the covering should be blue and white for a boy, or pink and white for a girl." The inflections in Geordi's voice suggested they'd heard Data's little presentation a little too often.

It was only when a soft female voice joined their conversation that she noticed Doctor Leah Brahms at the other side of the table. "We don't know the gender," the engineer said with a smile that surprised Crusher, "so we went with green."

"For alien." LaForge concluded with a broad grin and a twinkle in his dark eyes. Yep, he had it bad.

Space was empty, except for the ever-present stars, still she looked out for the creature she'd delivered. A tap on her shoulder alerted her to a drink she hadn't ordered. The El-Aurian bartender held her eyes and she shifted uncomfortable under the intense stare. Without looking away Guinan shot back a retort to Will who questioned her choice of hat.

"That must've been one of your more memorable surgeries Doctor," Brahms voice finally broke the staring contest she'd somehow ended up in.

"Yes, yes, you could say that." The smile she forced felt almost painful, but convinced the others. She'd thought this little celebrations would lift her out of her weird mood, but it seemed to be doing the opposite.

Geordi held up his glass and scraped his throat. "A toast, to junior and his Godmother, the Enterprise."

"Hear, hear!"

The group collectively took a sip of their drinks. Hers was bitter and she put it down almost immediately. The sweet aftertaste caught her by surprise, it sizzled on her tongue and burned deliciously down her throat, exploding in a wave of warmth in her stomach.

"What are you having Doctor?" Again it was Brahm's voice that demanded her attention.

"Please, call me Beverly." Was the woman aware of the puppy-eyes with which LaForge was watching her? She knew something had transpired between the two. The icy stares during the meeting earlier that day hadn't been missed by anyone, not even Data. "And I have no idea, but it's delicious!"

"Sure looks like it, I think I'll go ask Guinan to make me one of those too, you are glowing." Now that it was mentioned, she could feel the heat on her face. What the hell was in that drink? A nervous laugh was all the response she could think off.

"I have to admit," Leah continued after a pause, "you have a good team here, although I'm still not sure how I feel about the modifications the engineering crew made to my engine." It felt as if the remark wasn't really meant for her and when Geordi briefly interrupted his conversation with Riker to reply, that suspicion was confirmed. The playful banter between the two engineers disappeared among the buzz of the other conversations around her.

Would they ever come across 'junior' again? Now that they knew when his species fed and lived, Starfleet would probably send a science vessel to study them. She couldn't deny her fascination. Planet bound lifeforms had gone through centuries of studies, experiments and ill fated trials to eventually create spaceships. They were completely dependant on their own ability to recreate planetary atmosphere to travel between planets, solar systems and quadrants.

But Junior and his kind, they could travel without having to worry about maintaining an atmosphere. They did what most Starfleet personnel dreamed off as kids. Mulling this over, she watched the play of body language between her crewmate and the woman who designed their home. Although Geordi's interest was clear, he obviously tried to downplay it. But, wrong she might be, there was a flirting edge to Leah's reactions. They would make a striking couple, a study in contrasts. Not only physically, but personality-wise as well.

Would she and Deanna compliment each other well?

Immediately she banished the thought and took another swallow of her drink, coughing when the sip was bigger than she'd intended. Now, instead of the pleasant sweetness, the aftertaste was almost painfully sour.

Out of nowhere Guinan appeared with a glass holding clear liquid. "You shouldn't take swallows bigger than you can handle," she remarked without emotion. "Here, water." Grateful, if feeling somewhat chastised, Beverly drank the cool liquid.

"Are you all right Doc?" The first officer, who had moments ago been chatting with one of her junior nurses, pulled up a chair and straddled it. The concern in his blue eyes was genuine and startled her a little.

"I'm fine."

He squinted his eyes and tilted his head slightly in the universal 'Yeah. Right.' expression. "You seem preoccupied."

"Just thinking about Junior."

"Yeah, that was something else," he conceded with a broad grin, before turning serious again. "You haven't been yourself lately Beverly, maybe you should talk to Deanna."

She was about to make up an excuse when she felt a hand on her shoulder and froze, her heart skipping a beat. She didn't have to look to know who that hand belonged to and she couldn't deny the flush of heat that spread across her chest.

"I'm free now if you want to talk Bev." The gentle inflection in Troi's voice was one she'd heard many times before.

As an outsider it always reminded her of a mother using soft and calm tones to ease a scared child. Now that she was on the receiving end however, it felt more like a predator using sweet tones to give its prey a false sense of security. "I'm fine. Really," she insisted, doing her best not to sound too defensive.

"If you say so." The Counselor conceded and sat down on the empty chair next to her. Nervously Beverly took another sip of her drink, grateful when Riker changed the subject.

"It's hard to explain," Deanna answered him. Didn't she always say that when asked what she sensed empathically? She felt the other woman looking at her, even as she continued to talk to Will. "They're an old species and they feel," she seemed to struggle to find the word, "wise."

"They are intelligent?" She couldn't hide her surprise and felt a blush creep up on her cheeks when Deanna's lips curled up into a knowing smile.

"Not in a way we'd recognize as such. It's almost entirely instinctual, primal." She wondered who the emotions that flickered in the Betazoid's black eyes belonged to.

Realizing she was staring, Crusher quickly turned to Riker and took another gulp from her glass. "Ohhh, I haven't had a butt-twister in ages!" Deanna exclaimed excitedly, "I'll go ask Guinan for one." No sooner had she finished the sentence or the Counselor was already headed for the bar.

"A butt-twister?"

"Taste buds," Will explained, but the glint in his eyes told her there was more. "It's one of her favorite drinks. And it makes her _butt_ twist too," he added in a lower voice.

The image that came to mind threw the Doctor into a new coughing fit. Thankfully Data saved her from having to reply. "Would you like to dance Doctor Crusher?"

Almost she declined. Ever since she'd taught him how to, Data wanted to dance at every off-duty gathering, appropriate or not, music or not. If he kept it up, her reputation as 'the Dancing Doctor' would soon come back to haunt her. Tonight, however, it meant she could avoid Deanna without rousing suspicion. "Sure Data, but watch out for my toes."

"I will," he answered earnestly, oblivious to her joke.

_Tbc..._


	11. Chapter Eight b: Galaxy's Child

_Chapter rating:_ T

_Author's note:_ I hope you're all still enjoying this story, there are some 300 hits per chapter, so I know it's being read :-) (though really, some reviews would be nice :p) So I thought I'd ask your opinion on a dilemma I'm facing. The next chapter will revolve around "Night Terrors", which is a pretty Troi/Crusher heavy episode. As a result, I'm half way done with the chapter and it's already 12 pages long. I'm estimating the whole thing to be around 15 thousand words. So far each chapter has averaged around 3 to 4 pages or 2000 words.  
I'm thinking of taking the most important scenes and post those as Chapter Nine of Parterre, and post the whole "Night Terrors" story as a separate file. What do you guys think? Any suggestions would be appreciated

Okay, enough of that, time for Chapter Eight b and a dive into Beverly's past. I'm not sure what the consensus is on the events on Arvada III, presumably during which her parents were killed, so I came up with an explanation of my own. No idea if it holds up against scrutiny of the Beverly-fans, so I'd sure appreciate comments/criticism :-)

_Feedback:_ Pretty, pretty, pretty please? I _live_ for feedback, sort of, and any kind is welcome…

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****Chapter Eight b "Galaxy's Child"**

With a heavy sigh the counselor let herself fall into the chair next to Beverly. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

"Me too," the doctor agreed.

"I haven't danced like this since the Academy."

"Hmmm, fun though."

"Yes." Troi smiled and for a second Beverly forgot about the hundred people dancing and talking around them.

Somehow, over the course of Beta-shift, the celebration had turned into a full blown party. People were dancing and drinking like there was no tomorrow and Beverly had happily joined them.

Will had finally convinced nurse Hudgens to dance. The couple almost collided with Data who swept nurse Powell across the dance floor without much regard for others. "Nothing like a birth to cause a celebration," she murmured, glancing out to the stars again.

"Everybody is certainly in high spirits," Deanna agreed.

She found herself unable to think of a response. The evening had been fun, she'd laughed and danced and had finally stopped worrying about the tension between herself and Troi. Yet, for the entire evening she had felt disconnected. She'd watched Troi twist her butt, Riker being told off and Geordi reluctantly keeping himself in check as if she was a scientist, observing an ant colony scuttle about.

Deanna's eyes were on her face, but she couldn't meet them, or look away. Perhaps it was the liquor, or the desire to get away from the cold stars looming outside that kept her from objecting when Deanna took her hand and tugged.

For a few seconds she thought the counselor was leading her to the dance floor and relaxed in relief when they crossed to the exit doors. It was only when they were standing in front of her quarters, two decks up, when she realized they were still holding hands. Blushing, she pulled hers back and glanced down the empty corridor.

After a slight hesitation she followed Troi inside, a little unsure what to do with herself while the other woman ordered beverages from the replicator. Awkwardly she sat down in her favorite chair, her back turned to the stars and accepted the steaming cup of tea.

"So talk."

"A-about what?" Suddenly she realized the counselor had her cornered. Unbidden she imagined Deanna telling her everything would be all right, that they could be lovers, taking her hand and kissing her like that evening in Troi's quarters. Panic rose in her chest.

"About today's encounter, what bothers you so much?"

Relieved, but somehow disappointed, Beverly took a deep breath and brought her mind back to safe territory. "I honestly don't know," she admitted, "I've been in this weird mood all day and I can't seem to shake it."

The Betazoid's black eyes shone with sympathy and she couldn't escape the feeling of Deanna knowing what had eluded her all day. "It is connected to what happened today?" When she didn't reply Troi pressed on, "or maybe it's because you miss Wesley? Or…?"

She was grateful the counselor didn't verbalize the other option, as there had been only one other thing, or rather person, on her mind. "It's not Wesley. Of course I miss him and worry about him, but I know he's doing well and can handle himself."

Troi nodded, her hair shifting slightly, "the encounter with the aliens then?" A flash of guilt hit her and suddenly the doctor felt wholly uncomfortable. "You delivered the baby successfully, it's going to be fine thanks to your quick thinking."

"We killed the mother." The words rushed out before she could even think about them.

"It was an accident," Troi countered, "we were trying to help."

Beverly huffed and met Deanna's eyes head on. "Some help."

"We tried," Troi insisted, "and we saved the baby."

"Yeah, but not the mother. We don't know anything about how it was supposed to grow up. Maybe it needed anti-bodies from its mother, or maybe none of the others can raise it. We don't know the impact it'll have. What if-" She halted mid-sentence and looked down at her hands, now held in Troi's.

"No one should have to grow up without a mother," Deanna whispered ever so softly, her voice so soothing it was painful.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but Beverly refused to let them fall, or even acknowledge them. "I never knew mine," she whispered, defeated. "I don't even know why I suddenly miss her this much."

"There have been a lot of changes in your life this year."

"Yes. I can talk to you, to Nana, but it's not the same. I wanted to talk to her when Wesley left, when I was treating the Captain, when…" She didn't finish, unwilling to admit that her mixed up feelings about the woman holding her hands were another reason why she missed her parents so much. "It's silly," she continued when Deanna didn't speak, "how can I miss what I never had?"

The counselor's expression didn't change, possibly because she didn't know either. "You know what you could've had," she said, squeezing her hands. "You deal with concerned mothers almost everyday, you _are_ a mother."

"I was five and Nana raised me after that. She's my mother for all intents and purposes."

"You are not belittling what she did, who she is to you, by missing your mother Beverly."

Crusher swallowed, fighting tears again. She'd lived with the absence of her parents for almost forty years, why did she still get choked up when talking about them? "Sometimes it feels as if it does. Nana saved my life. She's the reason I became a doctor."

"What happened on Arvada three?"

The question hung between them, looming overhead like a dark cloud. Troi had never asked her so directly. Chills covered her body and she swallowed, fighting the memories. She didn't have many memories, but the few she had were ceaselessly ruthless. Images no child should have to see. Every muscle in her body tensed up.

"We called for help," Beverly said tersely, "but there were no ships close enough. Almost three hundred people died of infections and poisoning." Silence interrupted, giving her a chance to cover her emotions, at least outwardly. Images of disfigured bodies flashed through her head. The black bullseye lesions, sometimes the size of her father's fist, covering skin like a hungry predator. "When we ran out of medical supplies, Nana figured out how to use the planets herbs and plants to slow down the infection and counter the poison. Only a dozen people lived."

Tears fell down her face and while she could pull her hands away from Troi's and erase the evidence of her emotions, she didn't. The warmth of Deanna's skin on her own, the reassurance of the touch was all that kept her from succumbing to the tears. "What about your parents?"

She shook her head and looked at the photo's on her desk. "They were among the first people to die." Troi's grip tightened and she was grateful for the anchor the other woman provided. "My mother was a botanist. She'd gone into the southern forest with a biologist and a science team, headed by my father. They went in deeper than anyone had gone until then and discovered new species of wildlife. After a couple of days they came across a cave system, inhabited by animal and plant life that didn't need sunlight to survive."

It had been a major discovery, she remembered her parent's excited log entries well. They had been so proud of their discovery that they'd taken too much risk. "Deep in de cavern they found a massive plant. Nearly a hundred meters tall. So little life can be sustained without sunlight and here they'd found a plant that hadn't only sustained itself, but grown immense. They took samples of its leaves, roots and buds and made their way back to the colony."

The memories were so clear it scared her. The whole colony had celebrated the discovery when the teams had come back. Arvada III was a volatile planet and life had been hard on all the colonists, but finds like the one her parents had made were the reason for the settlement to endure the hardships. They had proudly unpacked the samples and displayed them, still in their protective casings. But in all the excitement, no one had thought about the rising sun. She shivered and closed her eyes, forcing herself to continue. "They displayed the samples, kept them protected in their containers. Somehow, the samples ended up in sunlight." Swallowing, she fought the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

"They didn't, couldn't have known that the reaction would be so volatile. Most samples were unaffected or simply withered." The words rushed out of her mouth as if trying to keep up with her raging heart. "But the buds, they seemed to soak up the light. Everyone gathered around to watch, I wanted to too, but Nana was firm and ordered me to bed. When I wouldn't listen, she dragged me off. I didn't see what happened, but some kind of chemical reaction happened in the buds and it caused a pressure to build up in the containers. A few security personnel tried to pick up the containers and take them out of the sun, but the energy released had caused the containers to heat up. The security officers burned their hands and dropped the casings. They broke and the buds exploded on impact."

"At first everyone thought it was just dust, but it burned like acid into the skin of the people who got hit. The smell was horrible." Even in her room, half a mile away the stench of burning skin and the plant had reached her. "Nana realized something was wrong." She remembered her grandmother taking her to the colony's medical center and being given an air-filtering mask. The mask had saved her life. "With the masks she went back to the gathering. I was supposed to stay behind, but I couldn't. At first the damage seemed minimal, only the people who had been standing closest to the containers sustained burns. But soon people started to feel sick. Dizzy and nauseous. My mother had come to me, to tell me everything was going to be all right, when lesions broke out on her hands."

She couldn't speak anymore. The lesions had spread quickly and three days later her parents were dead. They'd been too close to the containers to have a chance. Breathing raggedly she finally dared to look up from her hands and face Deanna.

The counselor's face mirrored the emotions she tried so hard to suppress. Black eyes were watery with tears and sorrow and Troi's lips were drawn into a thin, quivering line. "I'm so sorry Beverly."

She laughed, ending on a sob. "I never told anyone this, not as an adult," she said awkwardly, still holding on to her tears. Troi just nodded in acknowledgement and wrapped her arms around Beverly's torso, pulling her close. After a moment she let go of her anxiety and relaxed against Deanna's warm body, her head resting on the Betazoid's shoulder. "I love my life," she murmured, "Wesley is such a joy and I love my job, my friends and I know I wouldn't be who and where I am today if things had been different back then." She paused and listened to Troi's heartbeat, it was noticeably slower than her own and only her medical training kept her from thinking the counselor had fallen asleep.

"But every so often, I wish things had been different. I'd gladly give all this up just to know my parents."

A hand smoothed over her hair, strangely reminiscent of what she remembered about her mother. "I know it doesn't mean much," Deanna said softly, drawing out each word to emphasize its importance, "but that's human Beverly, we all want to know where we come from."

"Hmmm, I guess. I just think sometimes that it would've been nice to grow up carefree. Arvada III was harsh and although Caldos was gentler, it was a relatively new colony when Nana and I moved there. It must've been wonderful growing up on Betazed."

For a second she felt Troi freeze and immediately realized the insensitivity of her statement. "Dea," she shot upright, "I'm--"

"It's alright." The sharp interruption stunned her. "I suppose my childhood would seem privileged to many."

"I didn't mean--"

Again she was interrupted, though this time Deanna's voice was softer and held no accusation at all. "It's alright Beverly, truly. We all like to think the childhood of others was easier than our own. I didn't have to face the horrors you did."

Beverly relaxed a little, but still couldn't shake the pangs of guilt. "Still--"

"Shh," she froze when a long, slender finger was pressed against her lips and suddenly felt exposed under the dark gaze of her friend. "What you went through was horrific, many children would have suffered lingering trauma as a result. But you managed to take that tragedy and deal with it, even turn it into a motivation for your career." The undertones in Deanna's voice were strong, forceful even and she couldn't deny feeling flattered by the words of praise. "You are so strong, because of what happened, because of your grandmother, but, also because of who you are. To know your mother Beverly, you only need to look into your heart."

She breathed the words Deanna offered and allowed pride to beat down her earlier fears and sorrows. "Thank you."

The counselor just smiled, affection alight in her eyes, and slowly stretched and stood up. "It's getting late, I had better get some sleep."

Glancing at the chronometer, Crusher startled. "Oh no! My shift starts in four hours!"

Deanna laughed and pressed a fleeting kiss on her cheek. "No worries, I arranged for you to have the day off tomorrow, Counselor's orders. I, however, have a patient at oh nine hundred."

"Thanks!" She called after the retreating woman, "and good luck in the morning."

Troi snorted and disappeared into the corridor, leaving Beverly to confront the sudden emptiness of her quarters.


	12. Chapter Nine Interlude

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Nine - **Interlude****  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ Kplus  
_Codes:_ C  
_Chapter s__ummary:_ Caught in a not-so-neat web of emotions, Beverly turns to her grandmother for advice.

_A/N_: Thanks for the reviews everyone! I appreciate them very, very much, so cookies for all :) This chapter is a little 'in-between' while I figure out what to do with the next chapter. Hope y'all enjoy xxx

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Chapter Nine - Interlude**

Once again Beverly checked the time on the chronometer. It was almost seven a.m. and Troi had left three hours ago, but still she couldn't sleep. Her mind was a jumbled mess of stray thoughts, memories and emotions. Recounting the death of her parents had left her exhausted, relieved and confused. Confused because of how easily she'd found herself talking to Deanna. How good it'd felt to share such a life forming tragedy with someone who could understand.

Whoever in the past she'd told her story to, she never felt they would really understand what it had been like for her to loose her parents in such a way. But in Deanna's eyes she had seen all the emotions she'd gone through. The horrification, the utter fear and desolation. She remembered the feeling of nothing ever being right again. In Deanna's eyes she'd also seen the anger and confusion she'd felt when she got older. When she learned about Starfleet protocol and wondered why her parents had made the mistakes they had.

In the spur of the moment she kicked off her covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The air was a bit too cold on her skin for comfort and while she turned on the lights and searched for her robe, goose bumps broke out on her arms and legs.

The Valerian root tea she ordered from the replicator chased away the cold, but not her need to talk.

Somehow, during sips of tea and meanderings of Betazoid women, Beverly found herself sitting behind her monitor and punched in a commchannel for the ship to set up. While the computer waited for a return signal, she wrapped her robe tight around her body and pulled up her knees, settling into the chair.

The screen sprang to life. "Nana!"

"Beverly my child, how good to hear from you!" The grey-haired woman greeted her enthusiastically. Even at 97 years of age her zest for life clear in bright green eyes.

"How are you Nana?" Beverly carefully studied the woman who'd raised her and relaxed, grateful that she seemed to be in good shape.

Felisa Howard waved her hands dismissively. "Fine dear, just fine. Caldos is splendid as ever, though we're coming up on the rain season. I know they wanted to recreate Scotland, but they could tune down the weather some. It's not good for my Camille's, they're so beautiful in full bloom." Silently she chuckled at her grandmother's monologue, even though she heard it every year. "But," Felisa resolved, "enough about me, how are you? And how's Wesley? I hope he's not pushing himself too hard?"

"Wesley is doing well Nana, still settling in, but he's already making friends."

"Women friends?"

"Nana!" In spite of herself, she laughed. In part because she knew her son was enamored with a girl in his strategic class.

"When are you coming to visit again dear? It's been two years since we've sat by the fire and talked." There was no real anger in the woman's voice, but nevertheless Beverly felt guilty. She didn't return home often enough and Nana was getting older. She might not have many more chances to spend time with her, without being separated by light years and light years. "I'd love to meet your new love too."

The herbal Valerian tea that had soothed her suddenly ended up sprayed across the monitor. "Well," Felisa laughed, her face distorted by drops and trickles of tea, "that's an answer if I ever saw one. Who is it?"

"No one," she answered flatly, suddenly regretting her decision to contact her grandmother. Maybe talking to someone else wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Beverly Howard, you know better than to fool me."

"I'm not seeing anyone Nana."

"Maybe so," Felisa replied after a pause with a twinkle in her green eyes that unnerved Beverly. Her grandmother had an uncanny nose for romantic entanglements. _Listen to me,_ she mused silently, _there _is_ no romantic entanglement_. "But there is someone, I can feel the emotional tension all the way over here."

She chose not to question the older woman's choice of words. Although she had deep respect and admiration for her grandmother's medical and instinctual knowledge of people, the scientific part of herself couldn't help but to put question marks behind claims of empathy. "I'm fine Nana. I'm sorry I couldn't make it home for the Christmas celebrations."

"That's all right child, it's quaint tradition but I know you're not fond of it."

"I'm sorry." She really was. The concept of Christmas, to tighten bonds with family and friends scattered across the universe was a lovely one, but also reminded her of what she'd lost. Since Jack had died she hadn't participated in the Caldos celebrations.

Felisa stared at her through squinted eyes, for a second with a hint of pity in her gaze. Then she smiled brightly. "No need to apologize, but tell me about this person you're not dating."

Beverly struggled with herself and shifted uneasily in her chair. She had contacted her grandmother in the hopes of discussing her troubles, but now anxiety threatened her resolve. "I think I'm falling In love." Immediately she cursed her mouth for shooting off without permission, her cheeks becoming hot with embarrassment. Forty-three years old and she sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"Why the sour face Howie? That's wonderful!"

"It's complicated," Crusher countered with a forced smile, ignoring the childhood nickname.

Felisa dismissed her concern, then seemed to catch herself. "All feelings are, especially love. Do you think your feelings might not be returned?"

She thought about that for a second, replying her interactions with Troi in her mind. The counselor hadn't pushed her, or shown signs of frustration. Maybe the kisses had been nothing but an indulgence. Deanna had let her get away with her feelings, despite quite clearly catching her in the act. What if the Betazoid was afraid of hurting her by making her disinterest clear? "No," she answered, "I know she feels the same." Deanna wouldn't push her and Beverly knew her friend better than to think she was being lead on.

"What has you so bothered then?" For long seconds she stared at the image of her only older living relative. For as long as she remembered, Nana Howard had been single. Beverly certainly hadn't ever been privy to her guardian's love life.

"We work together, closely." When she was eight and had developed her first crush, on a eleven year old snot named Stefan, she'd asked about her grandfather.

The explanation she'd been given then was so simple she sometimes still couldn't believe it. "I loved your grandfather very much," Nana had said reverently, "but not enough to settle. He wanted to stay on Earth, I wanted to take your mother to the New Berlin colony."

Felisa leaned closer to the monitor. "A subordinate?"

"No, we're both senior staff." She'd been so scared when she said yes to Jack's proposal. Worried that they would grow apart or that he'd be killed in the line of duty. Nana bore her singleness proudly and never seemed very interested in pursuing relationships, but back then Beverly couldn't imagine living without Jack. Some times it surprised her that she'd dealt with his death at all. Denial was one of her gifts after all.

"-be a problem. An empath would be perfect for you." Surprised she eyes her grandmother. "She might finally stop you from worrying so much."

"How did you know I meant Deanna?"

"Oh! That was her name, I couldn't think of it. She's the only other female staff member, isn't she?"

"Yes." When had she mentioned Deanna to her grandmother? Her memory refused to cooperate, teasing her with fragments that made no sense at all. What had she told Nana? "The senior staff is close Nana, we're all good friends, some of us have been more than that in the past. If Dea and I were to," she blushed and awkwardly searched for a neutral term, coming up short, "…do anything, it would upset the balance. There's no telling how our friends will react."

"Because you're both women?"

The question surprised her, she hadn't really thought about that aspect yet. "No, that wouldn't matter." Except maybe to Riker, who'd be intrigued by the idea in all likelihood. "They might worry about conflicts of interest or feel threatened in their friendships." Again Riker was a likely candidate, she knew enough about his history with Deanna to know he felt protective and possibly even a little possessive of her. It had been plaguing her for weeks that she couldn't imagine Jean-Luc's reaction. As the captain he'd frown upon fraternization. But as a friend, as her friend, she had no idea what he'd do or say.

"Don't you think your friends would support you?" Felisa studied her with a frank expression. It made her feel as if she was one of the healer's patients, rather than the woman's –quite healthy- granddaughter.

"And then there's Wesley," of course their friends would be happy for them, wouldn't they? "He's had a crush on Deanna ever since we came onboard."

"Then he'll understand what you see in her." She chuckled with Nana, remembering the doe-eyed look on her son's face, his stumbling words and awkward body language around Troi. He had mostly gotten over his teenage crush, but she suspected his hormones still reacted to the Betazoid.

"It's not just that. I've always kept my relationships out of his life."

"He's a big boy Beverly and smart enough to know his mother needs more than just friends. He wants to see you happy and," the older woman's voice hardened a little, taking on the same qualities as in her rebellious youth, "you need to stop protecting him."

"Maybe," she allowed, setting aside the remainder of her cooled off tea. Valerian tea was lovely, but when cold it made her sick to her stomach.

"Why are you trying so hard to come up with reasons to ignore your feelings?"

For a few moments she couldn't look at her grandmother, or answer. "I'm not," she countered at last, "there are just so many things I have to think about. What if things don't work out? One of us will have to transfer, it'll put a strain on our friendships. We could break apart the senior staff. What if things do work out but she's injured and ends up in sickbay, what if I can't save her? What if--"

"Beverly Howard Crusher, stop that!" Startled, she looked at the screen. "And close your mouth," Felisa added, wagging her finger. "If you truly believe all of those reasons, you might as well lock yourself in your room and never come out again. You live on a starship, sooner or later every single one of your friends and colleagues is going to transfer, retire, be injured or get killed, that's the world we live in."

She knew that, intellectually at least. Deanna had given her the same speech on more than one occasion. This time however, she couldn't convince herself. Too many people were involved, people she cared a great deal for.

"Deanna is an empath, isn't she? So she can tell how you feel." Beverly nodded uneasily. "Do you think that working together, knowing how you both feel, will be easy for her? That you won't create tension by doing nothing?"

"It probably will," she answered timidly, fidgeting with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Don't you think that tension might ruin your friendship, even result in a transfer?"

If she couldn't ignore her feelings for Deanna –and she hadn't been very successful so far- at least she could ignore Deanna's feelings for her. "Dea can't ignore how I feel." She hadn't thought about that. Already the friendships had changed, she'd been avoiding not just Deanna, but Riker and Jean-Luc as well. Wide-eyed, caught in the web of emotions she'd created, she snapped her head back to the monitor. "I'm ruining everything, I don't know what to do Nana."


	13. Chapter Ten: Night Terrors

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Ten a – **Night Terrors****  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **T**  
_Codes:_ C, T, P  
_Chapter s__ummary:_ The Enterprise has stumbled upon the missing science vessel Brattain. It's up to doctor Crusher to figure out what happened to its crew and the resulting stress causes some interesting situations.

_A/N_: I'm a little behind to the review-replies, my apologies. With mid-terms coming up this week, I've been rather busy. I will get back to y'all next week. In the mean time: thank you, thank you, thank you! Now on with the next chapter! xxx

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**Chapter Ten: "Night Terrors"**

The beeping of the computer woke Beverly Crusher from a dreamless sleep. Groggily she rubbed her eyes and checked the time. She'd been asleep for little over six hours. Her grandmother was right, the reactions of Will and Jean-Luc weren't her responsibility, nor should they be the basis for her decisions. Still she worried.

This thing between her and Troi, if she allowed it to happen it wouldn't, couldn't be a fling, or something that could easily be called off. They were good friends, best friends even. They knew each other too well, cared too much for a casual relationship. That scared her too.

There was only one way out of the maelstrom of worries and fear, she decided while getting dressed. She and Deanna needed to talk.

After fixing her hair, make-up and making a necessary stop at the bathroom, she made up her mind. If she didn't go talk to Deanna now, she'd never find the courage again. "Computer, location of Counselor Troi."

"Counselor Troi is on the Bridge."

She cursed under her breath, plans thwarted. There was nothing else she could think of doing, even the Vulcan novel she'd been reading didn't take her fancy. Donning her uniform and lab coat, she decided to cut her day off short and head to sickbay.

The doors had barely closed behind her, or her combadge chirped. "Doctor Crusher, report to Transporter room three."

Where would they be going?. After the detours they'd made to pick up and then drop off Leah Brahms, the Enterprise was now back tracking down the missing science vessel USS Brattain. Perhaps they'd already found her?

The transporter room, one of the smallest areas of the ship, was packed with officers. Riker, Worf and Data were already waiting on the platform. Behind the console chief O'Brien was presumably checking the readings and laying in the coordinates.

"Sorry about that." Somehow she caught the tricorder that slipped out of her hand before it hit the floor. Her breath halted while Deanna Troi came around her. A whiff of floral perfume for a moment enveloping her. "Hello Bev, sorry your day off is being cut short."

"That's okay. I was a little bored anyway." Troi arched an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"We found the Brattain."

"Life forms?"

Her question was directed back at Riker, but it was Deanna who answered, "scans are inconclusive. I can sense there is someone alive, but nothing more." Beverly steeled herself for what they'd find as she climbed onto the platform. Deanna's black eyes were troubled, that never bode well.

"Let's have a look." Apparently she wasn't the only one dreading what they'd find. Will didn't sound too happy about beaming over to the science vessel. "Energize."

Still she wasn't used to one world dissolving into another. The effects of the transporter beam usually lifted as soon as she was solid again. Now the slight anxiety and sense of displacement lingered a few moments longer. She glanced around the Brattain-bridge, taking in the dark and depressing atmosphere. What happened here?

"There is no malfunction, in any of the main systems, sir." With half an ear she listened to Data and the rest of the away team as they moved around and checked for bodies. The bridge was smaller than the Enterprise's and she doubted it would be as light even when in full operation. Of course the ship was also a lot smaller than her own ship. Only thirty-five crewmembers, compared to over a thousand. Thirty-five possible casualties. She shuddered.

As a doctor she'd seen dozens of bodies, some more disfigured than others, but she would never get used to seeing any of them. The young officer she found lay slumped in his chair. His skin a telling grey. How did he die? There were some flesh wounds, but at first sight none of them seemed severe enough to take his life. Glancing over to her crewmates, she realized they had found bodies too. "The bridge crew" and probably every other person onboard.

"Whoever did this, could still be on the ship." She briefly looked over to Riker while quickly examining the body of the helm-officer. The paranoid undertones were unlike the commander's normal demeanor. Then again, a Starfleet vessel-turned-tomb was bound to rattle everyone's nerves, her own included.

"There is someone still alive," Troi declared and automatically she turned to follow the counselor, "but he didn't kill these people." What did the empath feel? She knew of instances when Deanna had picked up on emotions that lingered in a place long after it had been deserted. As far as she knew those instances were rare and unpredictable. Hopefully Troi would be spared such an experience now, the way the bodies were mutilated and the emotions frozen in dead eyes spoke of a volatile and terrifying event.

"Here." The grey door opened, allowing access to a dimly lit lift. The man sitting on the floor seemed dead to her at first, but the tricorder detected a weak heartbeat. "I think he's Betazoid." She felt Riker hovering behind her, watching Troi turn to the man as she did. "It's all right," the counselor promised, "we're going to help you. Who did this? Who did this to you?"

They'd all like to know the answer to that question. The man looked terrified and didn't respond to Troi or herself. Even Riker felt the pressure of death, shifting uneasily behind her. "Let's get him to sickbay Doctor." She was grateful for the commander's swift orders, eager to get back to the Enterprise herself.

**# # #  
**A busy and crowded sickbay was seldom a good sign. Beverly weaved through the crew and found a little solitude in her office. Her team worked fast and efficiently, but the toll of thirty-four autopsies was showing on their faces. For a doctor, an autopsy was bitter, because it meant you'd already failed. All that was left was the chance to find out _why_ you hadn't been able to save the patient.

The seven she'd performed in the last seven hours had left her numb and anxious. They were no closer to uncovering the mystery of the Brattain. All the deaths had been violent, but there didn't seem to be a consistent factor, other than fear and terror in the eyes of the victims.

Doctors Selar, Martin and Hacopian were finishing up the last autopsies, giving her time to start analyzing the gathered data, a task she dreaded. Through her window she stared out at sickbay's main area. Alyssa and one of her younger colleagues were treating a young lieutenant who'd torn a ligament or two in the holodeck. Their demeanor was professional, but Beverly could detect a hint of anxiety in their eyes.

"Computer, compare blunt force injuries of the Brattain crew, are there similarities?"

"Processing." She watched the data scroll over the screen but couldn't retain the information. With a sigh she stood up and wandered back into sickbay's hectic buzz.

"I found one hiding under his bed." Unintentionally she caught the conversation between a security officer and one of her medical technicians as they headed out to the corridors.

"Whatever happened there," the technician responded, "it must've been horrible. Most of the crew is horribly injured. Let's hope whoever did this doesn't come after us." For a moment she considered calling the young technician, Tarsis, back and remind him to keep his mouth shut. The whole situation was unnerving for the Enterprise crew, maybe it was better to let them talk their worries out with friends.

Quickly Crusher glanced over Alyssa's shoulder. The ligaments of the nurse's patients were indeed torn. Satisfied that he was healing nicely she moved onto the next bed. "How is he?"

Troi turned slightly, her expression conveying her frustration. "Nothing. He isn't responding at all." Andrus Hagan, the sole survivor of the Brattain lay prone on the biobed, unmoving and silent. Examinations had shown him to be in catatonic shock, a condition hard to treat under normal circumstances, but none of her treatments had any effect on the Betazoid. "I've cancelled some of my appointments," Troi admitted a little guiltily, "he might be the only one who knows what happened."

"The autopsies haven't shown anything conclusive so far." She felt the pressure to perform as well. Between the two of them they had the best chance of discovering what happened to the science vessel and it's crew. "I wish there was a way to bring him out of his catatonic state."

Deanna nodded and smiled a wavering smile. "I'll keep trying."

The doctor gave her friend an encouraging squeeze and headed for the morgue. Maybe something would jump out at her that she'd previously missed? Try as she might, she could see nothing. The bodies were the same as two hours ago and she couldn't find anything new.

"Doctor?" Startled she jumped, bumping into one of the tables. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Jean-Luc!" It took a few moments to slow down her heartbeat and compose herself, watching as a nurse wheeled the last body to be examined out of the morgue. "We've almost finished the autopsies Captain."

There was a strange glint in the captain's eye for a second, but soon his gaze turned purposeful. "How long will it take to compile the data?"

She sighed, wishing the answer would come easy. Slowly she edged to the exit door, ready to leave the grim atmosphere of the morgue behind. "It's complicated. The dead were found all over the ship. Some were found locked in their rooms, barricaded with weapons piled all around them." Their last moments, huddled away like frightened animals. "Others were found in the corridors, where they'd obviously had hand to hand combat." She recognized the look in Picard's eyes. Shock and anger spoke of the sadness that such a fate became their colleagues and friends. "It's going to take some time to analyze and sort through the details."

The captain stayed silent and turned to where Troi was keeping watch over the rescued Brattain-officer. "We've identified him as Andrus Hagan, from Betazed. Scientific advisor," she clarified, knowing the captain wanted information and answers. At least she could give him one of the two. "He's in a profound catatonic state."

"I'm not getting much captain," Deanna joined in, "a few words… disconnected phrases. I can feel his terror, but I can't seem to get through to him."

She watched her two best friends, remembering a time when Jean-Luc hadn't trusted the empath. Now there was clear respect between them. Another thing she could end up destroying. Troi glanced at her curiously.

"Stay with him counselor." It was an order, she recognized it as such, though hidden beneath a layer of friendly advice. "We're examining the Brattain for clues, but, this is the only man left who knows what happened there." She followed Jean-Luc as he left and wished she could say something to lift the burden he must be feeling. Instead she ducked into her office, analyzing the data streaming across the monitor.

**# # #**  
The data made no sense. Or rather, it made perfect sense. That was what troubled her. All thirty-four crewmembers of the Brattain had suffered violent deaths, but all at their own hands. They'd killed each other!

"Beverly?" Troi's head poked around the door. She looked defeated, still unable to get through to Hagan Beverly guessed. "You've been staring at the monitor for hours, you need a break."

Her back _was_ stiff, and she hadn't eaten in ages. "How's your patient?"

"The same. I've had a little distraction from Reg, he says he keeps hearing transporterbeams."

"Transporterbeams?"

Deanna stepped in full view and shrugged her shoulders. "I could do with a real break. Care to join me?"

The offer was tempting, but she couldn't put off informing the captain of her non-findings any longer. "I have to talk to the captain." Did she see a flash of disappointment? "I could join you afterwards. Ten Forward?"

Deanna shook her head. "Too crowded. My quarters?"

Too late to backpedal now. Somewhat reluctantly she agreed. The empath smiled and turned on her heels. For a second she leered. Damn, she thought she'd finally taught herself not to do that. "Time to face the music."

Most of the crewmembers she encountered in the corridors greeted her, but in some of their eyes she saw questions burning. What happened to the Brattain? Would it happen to them as well?

"Come." As soon as the doors to the ready room opened she stepped inside, grateful to escape the questioning gazes of her crewmates. Still, it was a choice between two evils. Jean-Luc wasn't going to like what she had to tell him.

She, bearer of bad news, sat down on the sofa next to him, leaning in to make sure the importance of her words could not escape him. "I've been studying the autopsy reports. The conclusion is appalling." She gauged his reaction and waited until her warning reached his eyes. "There was no outside source, no alien presence, all thirty-four of them appeared to have killed each other!"

The confusion and the horrified surprise he must be feeling made way for the curiosity and drive for answers she expected of him. "What could've caused such an event? Drugs? A virus, poison?"

All options she'd thought off, and researched. "Toxicological tests showed no unusual substances in their systems and they all appear to be in good health, but for whatever reason they seem to have turned against each other. Using phasers and knives and bare hands." This was the part she dreaded most of all, "I'd like you to see this Captain. It's from the logs of the Brattain. Captain Zaheva's mental condition deteriorated steadily once they'd become stranded. She began talking of plots and mutinies. This," she pulled up the file on his monitor and stood back when it activated, "was the last entry in the log, made after they'd been adrift for over three weeks."

Captain's logs were often useful in reviewing missions gone wrong, but still it felt as an invasion of privacy. She didn't know captain Zaheva personally, but knew that Jean-Luc would have had at least a passing conversation with the woman. From the corners of her eyes she tried to unobtrusively observe his reaction. In silence they watched the ravings of a mad woman. The signs of paranoia and compulsive disorders were crystal clear.

The captain didn't outwardly react to the recording, she hadn't expected him to. After a few moments he turned to her, confusion and shock swimming in his eyes. "The Brattain's engines are in perfect working order, according to mister LaForge. Why would she think they were sabotaged?" He looked at her for answers, but Beverly had none to give.

On her way to Deanna's quarters she tried to think of excuses to cancel. Just when she admitted to herself that she couldn't think of any, her combadge activated. "Troi to Crusher. I have to cancel Beverly, something came up."

She felt guilty for being relieved. "That's all right Dea, I'll see you in sickbay." The counselor's cancellation probably meant that a patient needed her help. So much for a break.

"Doctor Crusher, please report to sickbay as soon as possible."

So much for a break indeed.


	14. Chapter Ten b: Night Terrors

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Ten b – **Night Terrors****  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **T**  
_Codes:_ C, T, P  
_Chapter s__ummary: _The Enterprise crew starts to experience symptoms of an unknown cause. It appears to be up to counselor Troi and doctor Crusher to find the cause and protect the crew against itself.

_A/N_: This may not be the best place to make political statements, but I'd just like to congratulate California on its recent decision regarding same-sex marriages. Also, many, many thanks for the reviews, I hope you're all still enjoying the story :) Oh, and a small warning: this chapteris exactly 3700 words long, tee hee!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**** b: "Night Terrors"**

"I really did see it!" Skittishly lieutenant Barclay looked up to her. "I k-know the c-counselor thinks other-otherwise, but I did!"

Beverly suppressed a sigh and tried to remind herself of proper bedside manners. "Your brainscan shows no anomalies Reg, you're _fine_." So much for those bedside manners. "Everyone is a little unnerved by what happened on the Brattain," as a matter of fact, he wasn't the only one experiencing hallucinations, "it's just stress causing those visions."

"That's what the counselor said."

"She's a smart woman Lieutenant, you should listen to her. Here." The engineer practically jumped away when she tried to inject him with a harmless relaxant. "Reg…" Her patience was quickly wearing thin. Barclay noticed that too and cast his eyes downward, tilting his head to expose his neck. Perhaps a little more forceful than necessary she pressed the hypospray against his skin. "Now, go and get some sleep mister Barclay." The man nodded meekly and hurried off.

"How are you doing?"

Beverly turned around and found the ship's counselor leaning back against the wall, her arms crossed over her stomach. "I'm fine." Deanna's expression changed minutely, not quite disapproving, but well on it's way. "Maybe I was a little hard on him," she admitted.

"You've been busy."

"Yes and we're still no closer to finding out why the Brattain crew killed each other." Her team had gone over the autopsy results at least five times, but was no closer to finding an explanation. Surely if there were aliens involved there would've been _some_ traces left. The sensors hadn't even detected evidence of other ships in the sector.

"Would you be able to detect psychological causes?" The empath's question was loaded, but she wasn't any more forthcoming.

"Sure," she took Deanna to a monitor and had the computer display various brainscans. "We can detect depression, shock, mental trauma, severe paranoia and schizophrenia, among other conditions."

For a few moments Troi carefully studied the scans, running her fingers over the colored areas of the screen. "Are these from the Brattain crew?"

She measured the counselor's expression. The Betazoid's face was virtually blank, and yet… "Yes, why?"

"It's nothing." Troubled black eyes said the opposite.

"Let's talk in my office," she offered, restraining her own uneasy curiosity. Troi followed, worry rolling off her in waves.

In her office the doctor sat down behind her desk, but her guest remained standing. "What is it Deanna?"

The other woman sighed, clearly worried. "I'm not sure. Tension among the crew is rising, and yes, that is normal," she added before Crusher could respond, "but I've had patients complaining about hallucinations, restlessness and chronic fatigue. That's unusual and worrisome. Our crew should handle the situation better."

While she contemplated Deanna's observations, the counselor sat down across the desk, hands folded. It amazed her how Deanna could seem so calm. It would probably fool most of the crewmembers, but she knew the empath too well and saw through the quiet exterior. Troi's eyes moved restlessly from side to side and her fingers tapped silently on the desk's surface.

She'd been too busy with the autopsy reports to keep an eye on every crewmember coming into sickbay for treatment. With a few keyed in commands she pulled up the treatment reports from the last three days. The results surprised her. "Twenty-two people reported to sickbay, all in the last three days. All of them reported auditory and, or visual hallucinations."

"I've spoken at least thirty patients with the same symptoms. What's going on?"

"The patients also reported increased irritability, restlessness and feelings of being chased and watched." They stared at each other. Fifty in a crew of over a thousand didn't seem much, but it was highly unusual. How come no one had noticed this?

"We have to tell the captain." Nervously the counselor tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Was that fear in Deanna's eyes?

"Tell him what? That the crew is more stressed than usual? We did find an entire Starfleet crew who killed each other."

"Exactly!" Troi's exclamation startled her and for a few moments her heart beat wildly in her chest. "Don't you see Beverly, this could be how things started on the Brattain!" What was she saying? "If the crew did kill each other, without alien influence, what else could've created the situation we found, except for extreme paranoia, anxiety attacks and a loss of rationale!"

If Deanna was right… What they'd found on the Brattain was horrible. Thirty-four dead crewmembers. But the Enterprise… the Enterprise had over a thousand people onboard. Not only Starfleet officers, but civilians and even children. "We don't know that."

"No," Troi conceded, "but something is happening to us and the captain needs to know."

Protocol did dictate them to bring their concerns to their senior officer. It bugged her that there was no scientific basis for the empath's worries. "Maybe we should try and find a commonality? Something that could've caused those symptoms?" After a brief pause Deanna nodded, reluctantly so. It was unlike the counselor to be this impatient, Beverly noticed. If there was something amiss however, reversing the cause as soon as possible was prudent. Not all the people onboard would deal with the stress in an equal manner. Things could get ugly very soon. "Let's compare the reports."

"I'll ask some of my patients to report to sickbay for a physical."

For almost five hours they'd studied the reports and patients. It was clear by now that there was a problem, but they were no closer to finding the cause. Deanna sighed loudly and tossed the padd she was working on, onto the desk. The clang of the two materials colliding rang through her ears. "There's nothing here. We can't keep staring at these numbers Bev, it's time to tell him."

The scientist in her wanted to stay and figure out the mystery. She knew Jean-Luc would want answers and she wasn't even sure they had the question right. "All right."

The corridors seemed smaller than she remembered, the air stale, but it wasn't until they stood side by side in the turbolift that she truly felt uncomfortable. In the hours they'd been working together she'd felt perfectly fine. There was something relaxing about working with an empath. With her Betazoid abilities, Deanna could sense her intentions and motivations. There was no need to explain everything she did and they worked well together.

She could almost feel Deanna's urgent desire to speak with the captain. More than that, she was aware of the Betazoid's scent and body heat. Deanna turned to her, pinned her with a stare she couldn't escape.

Slowly she advanced until they stood almost nose to nose. She expected a kiss or maybe a touch, but instead Deanna reached behind her back and undid the burgundy jumpsuit she wore. Frozen in place Beverly watched the empath undress herself, her heart racing. She drank in the passionate heat in Deanna's eyes, the warmth of the other woman's body as she molded herself against her. Even through her uniform she felt the heat between them.

"-verly?"

"Huh?"

Troi looked at her, fully dressed and concern clear in her voice. "Are you all right?"

Embarrassed, she blushed and looked at a point just over Deanna's shoulder. "Yes, yes I'm fine." She felt hot. Damn dreams. The rush of cool air when the doors opened was more than welcome. The counselor stepped out first and immediately made a beeline for the ready room doors.

"Maybe he left?" She pondered when Jean-Luc didn't respond to the enunciator. She hoped so. The thought of being trapped in the ready room with only Jean-Luc, Deanna made her queasy.

Troi gave her a quizzical look and another chime went unanswered. "He's in there."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be disturbed." She laughed nervously when the counselor knocked on the door. "Surreal."

Now concern showed in black eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Beverly scraped her throat. "Yes, I'm fine." The doors finally parted and she quickly stepped inside, escaping her friend's prying eyes.

"What?"

"Captain, do you have a moment?" Why was he so surprised?

"We're concerned," Deanna continued smoothly, apparently not noticing the strange welcome, "we're afraid that whatever happened on the Brattain may be starting here."

"Explain" He didn't sound quite like himself either. Perhaps he was experiencing some of the symptoms that had them worried? Without allowing her discomfort to dictate her movements she sat down and let Troi explain.

If she kept staring at him he would notice her discomfort. She couldn't look at Deanna either, certain she'd blush. The surface of the desk seemed a good solution. "Well, Beverly and I have been getting unusual reports. People behaving strangely, others hearing sounds that aren't there."

Again there was that tone in his voice, a tone that alerted her. "Are we talking about hallucinations?"

"In some cases. In others just erratic behavior." With effort she kept her face relaxed, trying hard not to show her uneasiness.

"We can't track down any element that might be responsible." Almost she smiled at the small hints of frustration in Deanna's voice. The empath hid it well.

"But everything started when we found the Brattain?" He looked at her without emotions, but she knew he wanted her to counter his conclusion. She wished she could offer him more than a hypothetical solution.

"Yes. Captain, we have to get the Enterprise away from here before it gets any worse." After all their research, location was the only commonality they'd found. Deanna was right, if the symptoms continued, there was no telling what would happen. The episode in the turbolift proved she wasn't immune either.

Picard shifted his gaze between them and she wondered what Deanna sensed from him. "We're preparing to take the Brattain in tow. We'll be on our way within the hour." It wasn't the answer they were hoping for. The counselor had wanted to leave immediately and she was starting to feel the same way. Something felt horribly wrong.

The turbolift took only second to reach deck 12, but in those few seconds, Deanna got on her nerves by pacing restlessly in the small space. The doors opened and she grabbed onto Troi's wrist just in time to prevent the woman from exiting. "Computer, redirect to deck nine, crew quarters."

They didn't speak while being carried to their new destination, nor when they crossed the corridors. Only once they entered Deanna's quarters was the silence broken. "Why did you take me here?"

She motioned for Troi to sit and ordered Valerian root tea and a hot chocolate from the replicator. "I thought it might help you relax a little."

"I'm fine Beverly, I need to stay with Hagan, maybe he can tell us something." Already the empath stood up.

"Sit, Dea. Doctor's orders." They faced off for a few seconds, but she refused to waver under her friend's stare. Deanna sat back down. "We'll be out of here within an hour. Hagan hasn't come out of his state in the last ninety-six hours, I doubt he'll do so in the next one."

"He might." The objection was halfhearted, they both knew he wouldn't. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

"I know you have trouble dealing with the stress on the ship." It was the curse of empathy she guessed, to feel the stress and worries of everyone else on top of your own. The frustration and impatience Deanna was exhibiting were unusual, even under these circumstances. "I doubt ordering you to sleep will have much of an effect, so we're going to sit here and talk until the ship moves." She just hoped they wouldn't touch on the one subject she'd been avoiding for weeks.

**# # #  
**"It's been an hour since we moved closer to the Brattain, we should've been on our way by now." Troi's observation broke the tranquil atmosphere and shattered their quiet conversation. Before Beverly could even react, the younger woman jumped up and started to pace.

"Dea…" She'd never seen the Betazoid this nervous, it unsettled her, but also gave life to worries. If there was something affecting the crew mentally, perhaps if affected the half-Betazoid differently, she wasn't human after all.

"Something is wrong, we should have been moving by now."

"Maybe there's a delay." There were _always_ delays.

Deanna seemed to consider that for a moment, concentration edged clearly in her features. What was she sensing? "No. Something is wrong, we're not going anywhere."

"Listen to yourself!"

"Think about it Beverly," the empath answered in the same, raised volume, "we found the Brattain drifting in space, all her crew dead but supposedly her engines are working fine!" What the hell was going on?! Was some kind of outside influence causing the panic and hysteria in Deanna's voice? "Don't you think," she wondered aloud, "they would have left here, come looking for help, if they could?"

In spite of her misgivings about the counselor's apparent state of mind, she couldn't deny the logic. Right now however, she had more immediate concerns. Just when she decided to take Deanna to sickbay and run a physical, Troi relaxed visibly. "Are you all right?"

Disoriented Troi looked at her. "Yes, I… I'm fine, sorry."

"What happened?"

"I must've been caught up in someone else's emotions." Beverly resisted the urge to ask who's emotions, knowing that Deanna wouldn't divulge the answer. "I'm all right now." She studied the woman's face, looking past signs of fatigue and worry. All she saw was resignation, not just in Deanna's face, but in her whole body language.

"Let's go to sickbay," she suggested, helpless to do anything else. "I'd like to run a full physic--"

"Picard to senior staff, report to observation lounge one." She tried to ignore Deanna's impish, but troubled, 'I told you so' smile and followed the counselor out into the corridor, not allowing herself to worry just yet.

They were the last to enter the observation lounge and hastily took seats on opposite sides of the long conference table. As she listened to Data and Geordi explain why they hadn't moved, she realized Troi was right. The Enterprise's engines were in perfect working order, but like the Brattain, they weren't going anywhere. Trapped by a force that was unidentifiable and undetectable. Across the table she caught Deanna's eyes and knew that they had a very real deadline now.

"If we shut down the engines, we risk not being able to turn them back on again." She'd missed Riker's suggestion, but surely shutting down the engines was not an option right now? They were far away from other Starfleet vessels and although the ship could store energy, it needed its engines to provide energy for life-support. The stored energy would last for a few weeks, but who knew how long they'd be trapped here?

The first officer nodded and Beverly recognized the 'we're screwed' look in his eyes. "All right," Picard interjected, "the engines will remain running. Mr. Data, LaForge, perhaps analyzing the sensorlogs and comparing them with the Brattain's will yield some answers. And since we're not going anywhere, we should minimize active duty Number One."

"Yes sir," Riker responded instantly, seemingly relieved to have something to do. Next to her, Worf growled low in his throat. Inactivity would make the Klingon irritable, she knew from experience. She felt sorry for his subordinates.

"Dismissed." Beverly stood up to follow her colleagues out into the corridor, when she noticed Troi's unchanged position. The counselor sat quietly at the captain's left hand, her hands folded serenely on the table's surface. "Doctor." Not deaf to Picard's unspoken question, she sat down. Just how much emotions did Deanna pick up from him, or her for that matter?

"I have no empirical basis for this theory Captain," Deanna admitted before either of them had said anything, "but I think we need to assume that the symptoms doctor Crusher and I described earlier, are going to continue," she paused briefly, "and intensify."

The question in his hazel eyes filled her stomach with dread, she felt a little better for noticing the unease in Jean-Luc's thin smile. "I think she might be right."

"If so, what can we expect?" The captain addressed both of them, but she gladly deferred to Deanna, who was the expert on psychological conditions after all.

The empath sighed and flexed her fingers. "If we assume the symptoms will be similar to those the Brattain crew suffered; hallucinations, irritability, loss of concentration, an increasing number of arguments and fights." A flicker of worry crossed Picard's features and he set his jaw. "Officers will begin to question and disobey orders, become paranoid. When, I can't tell you, but it will happen."

They sat in silence, each contemplating the counselor's words. Did Jean-Luc hear the tightly reigned in fear in Deanna's voice as well? "Can you guess the progression rate?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, but Deanna beat her to it. "No, but stress will speed up the process. Civilians will most likely feel the effects stronger than trained officers. Older crewmembers will be more likely to loose their concentration, while younger officers lack the experience to deal with the onset of paranoia. Higher ranked officers will feel more stress because of their responsibilities." They both glanced at Picard, who seemed unaware of Troi's veiled message, but she knew better.

"What about the children onboard?"

Troi almost smiled. "They'll probably feel the effects least of all." Even Jean-Luc seemed relieved to hear that. "They'll experience the same symptoms as everyone else, but children are better equipped to deal with it. Except for nightmares and a more rebellious stance in the older ones, I don't expect any serious consequences for the time being."

_For the time being_.The words hung ominously between them. Captain Zaheva's logs suggested her crew had survived for three weeks, but there was no clear indication when the symptoms had first begun. With a crew of over a thousand people, it wouldn't take much for things on the Enterprise to escalate.

"Doctor?"

He felt the same sense of dread that was brewing in her stomach, his clipped tones said as much. "I will go over the autopsy and physical results again. Perhaps we missed something." She doubted it and if location really was the only commonality, they had little chance. It would be at least two weeks before another ship would reach them and who was to prevent that ship from getting caught too?

Picard rubbed his hand over his chin, eyes pensive. "Is there a way to treat the symptoms?"

She decided against a lecture on why treating symptoms without knowing the cause could be dangerous. "Stimulants might keep the symptoms from escalating." It wouldn't be easy to find the right kind of stimulant, or even the right dose and they all knew that eventually any stimulant would lose its effects. Once that happened, the symptoms were likely to increase exponentially.

"Let's hope so," Jean-Luc said grimly.

"We can hardly put the entire crew on stimulants, especially for longer periods of time. The effects could be just as disastrous as the symptoms."

"She's right Captain." Unfortunately so. Stimulants, even in the twenty-fourth century had their fair share of side-effects and different patients would react in different ways. On a ship as large as the Enterprise, it was a given that roughly a quarter of the crew would react poorly to multiple doses.

"Do you have any other suggestions?"

She felt the expectant stares from her friends. "No…but give me a few hours." Perhaps they didn't need to give every single person stimulants.

"Very well, dismissed."

They'd just made it to the turbolift, or her mind was already cramped with possible solutions. If they could minimize the number of people needing the stimulants, it would be easier to monitor and counter the side-effects. But how to choose? "Deck twelve."

Although the lift plummeted twelve decks down, it hardly felt as if they were moving at all. Once her grandmother had taken her to an old museum on Earth, the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg. The building still had late twenty-first century elevators. The kind that didn't yet have build in inertial dampers. Her twelve-year-old self could've spend the entire day riding the lifts, loving the way her stomach danced.

Suddenly she became aware of a set of dark eyes gazing at her and as she brought her eyes up to look at Deanna, she caught a tender smile on the empath's face. She blushed. Troi probably felt her little blast into the past. "Where are you heading?"

"Sickbay, I want to check on Hagan."

"Oh." Not knowing what else to say, or where to look, Beverly found herself staring at the counselor. She looked tired, dark circles were forming around darker eyes. Perhaps it was Hagan's presence that affected Troi? Although the man was physically catatonic, she doubted his mind was as quiet.

"He's terrified," Deanna confirmed, "it's almost impossible to push through his fear."

"What is he so frightened off?"

The empath sighed. "I wish I knew."

When they reached deck twelve, the lobby was busier than usual. Deanna skillfully fielded questioned from worried crewmembers and civilians as they crossed the lounge. While Troi spoke with a mother and young child, Beverly quickly checked with the receptionist, only to find out that almost every person in the lobby requested a medical consult and cited symptoms of chronic fatigue and hallucinations.

"It's not good, is it?" Deanna asked, reappearing at her side.

They crossed into main sickbay, away from prying eyes. "I could really use your help, the symptoms are partly psychological in nature, perhaps the cause is as well?"

"It's worth looking into, give me half an hour all right?"

"All right." The counselor strode over to the corner bed that held the only survivor of the Brattain. He hadn't moved since she'd left sickbay hours ago. After giving herself a few minutes to relax, or rather an excuse to watch Deanna, Crusher retreated into her office and began going through the gathered data once again.

_Tbc…_


	15. Chapter Ten c: Night Terrors

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Ten c – **Night Terrors  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **T**  
_Codes:_ C, T, P, Barclay  
_Chapter summary: _Beverly finally figures out what's happening, but that knowledge doesn't seem to bring her closer to a solution. The ship-wide insanity leads to a first official date for Bev and Deanna, though 'date' might not be the right word…

_A/N_: I'm leaving for Switzerland in 6hrs, where I'll enjoy two weeks of internet-free wilderness :-) I'm planning to do lots of writing and bring the first season of _Parterre_ to a close. Mainly so I'll no longer be tied to episodes and instead can focus on original plotlines. Also, because I feel the angst has run its course and it's time for our dear doctor to make a choice. So stay tuned… In the meantime, I hope you'll all enjoy this new chapter and I promise the next will contain some real T/C goodiness -grin-

**

* * *

Chapter ten c: "Night Terrors"**

Sickbay was already understaffed, making the confrontation that much more difficult. "Simon?"

The young technician turned abruptly, his eyes unusually wide. "Doctor! I apologize! I didn't intend to… it won't happen again. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Simon, stop." The boy visibly reeled himself in. "I know you want to help, but you need to look after yourself too. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off, relax and get some rest."

"No, no! It won't happen again, I promise, please Doctor!" Carefully Beverly disentangled her hand from his. The panicky reaction was out of character. Simon Tarsis was usually quiet and soft spoken, never one to contradict or question orders.

Without appearing too obvious she guided him to the door. "I know, but you need some rest first."

"Please!" She was shocked to find tears brimming in his eyes. Over the last few days she'd had to take an increasing number of staff off duty. Like Simon, they had started to make mistakes that were potentially life-threatening. Healing a hair fracture with a bone knitter set to heal a femur was not a good idea. Neither was injecting someone with a muscle-relaxant instead of a stimulant. Although, when no one had looked, she'd laughed at Selar's lopsided face. "Don't send me away, I'll do better, I promise."

"It's just for the rest of the day, Simon."

"I know you don't think I'm right for Starfleet," the technician continued, oblivious to her reassurance, "but I am, please don't kick me out!"

She was still searching for a way to reply, when Deanna Troi walked up and gently took the young man by his elbow. "Simon, would you mind coming with me? I need to talk to you about something." Maybe it was surprise that silenced his desperate pleas, she wasn't sure. At least Tarsis docilely followed the counselor out to the corridor, freeing her hands quite literally to tend to patients.

It had been almost ten days since the Enterprise's attempt to tow the Brattain and they were still stuck. Sickbay was getting busier every day as more and more of the crew experienced hallucinations and paranoia. In most cases she could send them back to their quarters after documenting the case, but some injured themselves, or others and had to remain under observation.

When Deanna returned, some twenty minutes later, she'd admitted two more crewmembers and a headache was starting to pound in her temples. "Thank you."

Troi smiled, looking as tired as she felt. The counselor too had spent the majority of the past week tending to worried crewmembers and helping them deal with their hallucinations and stress. "That's all right, I owed you one for sending Reg to you earlier today." They shared a wan grimace, the engineer was testing the patience of both of them.

While she scanned the stats of the Brattain's-survivor for any new developments, Beverly resisted the urge to speak to him. His eyes, black as Deanna's, stared at the ceiling and never acknowledged her presence. In spite of the mental care and assurance Troi provided him, the man seemed no closer to coming out of his catatonic state than he had when they found him. It was almost as if whatever caused his condition was still present, yet she couldn't find any outside influence.

The quietness that enshrouded the two Betazoids unsettled her. Not because of the quiet per see, but because she could almost _hear_ the telepathic communication, like a schism just out of reach. Perhaps it was just stress-induced paranoia?

For a few drawn-out moments she observed the pair, taking a breather from the more demanding and energetic patients. Deanna's usual serene exterior was showing more cracks each day. Her dark curls no longer meticulously groomed and circles began showing around her weary eyes. She remembered her own reflection in the mirror that morning and knew she showcased the same signs of stress and fatigue. Strangely she'd slept like a baby last night and woke up after almost nine hours of sleep. Yet she didn't feel rested at all.

"You should take a break and maybe a hypospray for your headache." This too unnerved her. More frequently Deanna would address her thoughts and feelings, which in itself wasn't anything new, but the way she did it; directly and at times without even looking at her, was what made her uncomfortable. As if the empath could hear her thoughts and feel her emotions at any given time, without having to make an effort.

"Actually," she turned away from their patient and moved to face Deanna. Perhaps in a bid to level the playing field. She didn't feel like guessing her own motives. "I think it might be time to start the stimulants." The counselor wasn't aware, or shouldn't be aware, that she'd made this decision after being called to both Riker's and Picard's aide. Both men had experienced several hallucinations and she recognized the increase in symptoms as the build up to the point of no return.

The other woman gave no outward sign of surprise or even acknowledgement. "Sleep might be more effective."

"It usually is," Beverly acknowledged. She didn't appreciate Deanna questioning her decisions. Of course she knew sleep would be the best remedy under normal circumstances. "I can't leave Selar to deal with the patients on her own."

"She's more than capable, and Vulcan."

"Vulcan or not, she's not immune."

"Neither are you." They faced each other squarely and although she held the physical high ground over the seated Troi, she felt herself shrinking under the Betazoid's stare. Two could play this game. They often tried to out bluff each other during poker games, but there seemed to be a whole different undertone to this staring contest. The air felt charged, almost crackling with energy and none of the usual mirth could be found in the counselor's eyes.

Even when their combadges activated and Picard ordered all senior staff to a meeting, she couldn't look away. Deanna's mouth quirked into a lopsided grimace and she stood up, practically charging out the doors, leaving Crusher to follow.

**# # #**  
At least they finally knew what had trapped them, Beverly reflected while Data continued his explanation of their captor. As of yet they were unable to break free of this Tyken's Rift. All energy directed at the propulsion systems was sucked out into space before they could use it. The remainder of Data's technobabble went over her head. Could the crew's increasing stress-symptoms be caused by the energy drain as well? If the Rift could suck energy from the ship, why not from the people onboard?

"Data, in Tyken's experience, did the crew exhibit behavioral changes?"

The android didn't appear to be phased, but then he couldn't be phased. "No. There were no reports of unusual conduct among the crew."

"What about nightmares?" Unable to hide her surprise she glanced at Deanna. Nightmares? They didn't fit the established symptoms.

"There were no records of sleep disturbances of any kind, Counselor."

So for all the technical wonders and the Android's analytic capabilities, they were no closer to finding a solution or even a cause. "Then, what is it? What's happening to us?" For the third time since the start of the meeting she shot a look at Riker. The commander was rhythmically drumming his fingers on the table. The drumming stopped.

Now she was more aware of Worf's ragged breathing. The Klingon obviously felt uncomfortable and was eager to get away. The symptoms really were getting worse. Under normal circumstances his impatience wouldn't bother her, neither would Riker's drumming.

"So," Jean-Luc tugged on his collar and his eyes darted around the table, "options?"

The silence was deadly.

The meeting continued for another hour, until Picard recognized the growing irritability of his staff and ordered them all some rest. The thought of returning to empty quarters made her uneasy and so Beverly found herself back on deck twelve. After quickly checking in on the Betazoid patient and Selar, there was only one aspect of her investigation left to recheck.

With a slight dread in her stomach, she entered the morgue. Thirty-four bodies, covered with white sheets were positioned on beds spaced evenly apart. She never lost the eerie respect for the dead. It still caused the hairs on her arms and neck to stand up. The space was chilled, one of the many methods of preserving the dead that had survived for centuries. Stasis fields would do the trick, but because of the lovely characteristics of the Tyken's Rift, this wasn't something they could spend a lot of energy on. She knew that if they couldn't figure out a solution quickly, several more sections and stations would have to be shut down to save energy. The holodecks were already down.

A nurse crossing the room shook her out of her ponderings. "I'd like to do more cross sections of the brain tissue of some of these bodies. Set up the positron emission sensor in sickbay and I'll decide which ones I want to study."

He nodded. "Yes doctor."

She watched him disappear, silence took hold of the space again. Her own breathing resonated loudly in her ears and she could feel her heart rate increasing. Ignoring the irrational anxiety that grew in her stomach, Beverly pulled up a pad and tried to focus on the readings. What did she expect to find? And in which body was she most likely to—

She froze.

There's no one here, it must be her mind playing tricks with her, she was a little on edge… but she'd heard _something_. A rustle…

It was only sheer horror that kept her from screaming. The bodies sat up! The _dead_ bodies moved. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, she felt her whole body tremble with its rhythm. The pad she dropped bounced loudly off the floor, the sound sharp and hard in the quiet space. Beverly jumped back, startling again when she touched one of the sitting bodies. It must be a hallucination, she rationalized at last. It just had to be.

Finding a shred of courage, she took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale slowly, her eyes shut tightly. "Go away." When she opened her eyes a few dreadful seconds later, the bodies where back where they were supposed to be; lying flatly on the tables.

Her relieve was short-lived and she screamed when someone spoke behind her. "Beverly? Are you okay?" Her heart was back in her throat, her hands shaking. She hadn't heard anyone enter. "Beverly?"

"Deanna! I.. uh- you, why? I mean, why are you here?"

The counselor looked at her with a mix of curiosity, worry and amusement. "I felt your alarm."

For the second time in as many minutes her heart began to calm down again, although now an anxiety of a different kind was building. "I'm fine." Why was she even trying to lie to an empath?

"Really?"

She herded the counselor back to the main ward, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure all the bodies were still in place. "Just an hallucination," she admitted, avoiding Troi's eyes, but as she waited for her friend's reaction, she realized something. "Have you been hallucinating?"

Deanna shook her head, but didn't appear particularly relieved. "Not that I'm aware off." The attempt at humor fell flat.

"Any other symptoms?"

Arms crossed, the other woman watched her. "Stress, lack of sleep. Nightmares when I do sleep."

Nightmares… nightmares… This was a clue, she could feel it in her bones. The missing piece of the puzzle. "Nightmares!" The lights in her office came on when she entered. "Computer, display file… eh… file S thee oh four, no, S three oh four S N."

"What is it?" She felt Deanna move to just behind her, felt the woman's body heat, but she didn't dare to turn or reply. With mental fingers she'd taken hold of a ghostly thread of knowledge, one that could lead her through the maze of the medical questions she faced. One stray thought, one distraction, and it would slip away.

Data from the autopsies scrolled across the screen, but didn't contain the clue she could almost taste. "Computer, display crew-questionnaires of the last three days and compile." Again the screen filled with information compiles into neat tables and graphs. This time, the puzzle piece lit up brightly. "Sleep!"

"What?"

"Sleep, sleep is the answer!" It all made sense now! She just had to examine Deanna and a few other aliens and telepaths. Run a neuro-cortex scan, check hormone and neurotransmitter levels, maybe do full brain scans…

"But everyone has been sleeping."

She grabbed the counselor by the arms, hardly containing her excitement. "Exactly! Everyone's been sleeping, but no one has gotten any _rest_!" In Troi's eyes she could see the confusion, perhaps even a glint of professional worry, but she didn't care, she had work to do!

**# # #  
**It took hours, but finally she'd found the maze's exit. The problem wasn't sleep, it was their dreams! Her desk looked like a Klingon picnic gone wrong; pads, tricorders and various plates with food were scattered all over the surface. Every time she'd thought of something, she had to note it on one of the pads, or she'd forget even the simplest of ideas after a matter of minutes. Some of the tests she'd run three times simply because she'd forget the test was already done.

Selar had fared a little better, but even the Vulcan had to start over after being called away to treat a crewmember. Now that they'd pieced together the puzzle, the trick was to remember how, long enough to inform captain Picard and Data. If her concentration continued down this slope, Data was their only hope of coming up with a cure.

Deanna sailed in for the fifth time in as many hours and now took away the discarded food without a word. She followed, having enough evidence to talk to Picard.

Though she encountered a handful of crewmen, the ship felt deserted. As if the crew had withdrawn into their cabins, waiting for the end. By the time she'd reached the ready room door, her heart was hammering in her throat. Quickly, she stepped inside and didn't wait for his greeting. "Captain, let me ask you this: since we located the Brattain, can you remember any of your dreams?" They were sitting opposite of each other in the ready room, his hands constantly touching his scalp. To keep herself from physically restraining him, Beverly locked her fingers together.

"I hardly ever recall dreams."

Of course he had to be difficult about it. She sighed inwardly. "Most people don't, but think! Have you even had a dream in the last ten days?" Data stood at her side, looming over her. It made her nervous. He was so silent she couldn't even hear him breathe. Data didn't breathe.

"I don't recall."

"I'm willing to bet you haven't. What's more, neither has anyone else onboard this ship. Except for Troi. I began to realize that when she talked about having nightmares." She remembered the haunted look in Deanna's eyes. Recurring nightmares were no fun even under the best of circumstances. Why was Jean-Luc staring at her? Oh right, the findings, "I've uh, done some, additional brain tissue scans on uh, the bodies, some of the bodies from the, uh," why couldn't she remember the name of the ship? She'd been studying its crew for the last two, or three, weeks. "the, the…"

"The Brattain, doctor."

"Right. And uh, I've also done some scans on a random cross section from our crew. They both have the same results." Data gave her the creeps. As unnerving as it was to see Jean-Luc exhibit signs of stress and anxiety, it was a small comfort that he was as vulnerable as the rest of them. Data on the other hand, being an android, was as calm as ever. He reminded her of one of her professors back at the Academy. What were the results again? "A unique chemical imbalance."

"Caused by?"

"Dream deprivation." The incredulity in his eyes was hard to miss. "Every night, when we… we enter into sleep…"

Helpless, she glanced at the only sane crewmember left. Thankfully, Data got the clue. "I believe what the doctor means is that humans enter into what is known as REM sleep, Rapid Eye Movement. It is the level of brainwave activity at which one dreams."

"We have to dream in order to survive! If we don't reach REM sleep we don't dream, we begin to lose our cognitive abilities, we find it hard to concentrate, we forget how to do the most ordinary tasks. Then we become irritable, paranoid. Some people experience hallucinations." _Some_ didn't cover it anymore at this point. Every single human on the vessel had reported hallucinations and the majority of the other species present had as well.

"You're describing the situation on this ship. But counselor Troi reported nightmares."

"Maybe it's because she's Betazoid, but I don't know why." The only survivor of the Brattain was a Betazoid as well. Perhaps Betazoids were affected differently? "All I know is that there's more going on here than being caught in a Tyken's rift. And I don't know how, or why, it is happening, but I do know this," she took a deep breath, "there is an inevitable conclusion to this pattern and if I can't find a way to stop it, we will all go insane." The look in the captain's eyes was eerily similar to the one in Troi's when she'd shared her conclusion. Next to her, Data was silent.

"What are our options?" Picard asked at length.

I wish I knew, she thought. "More tests and hope we find something, _anything_." He scrutinized her, his gaze unnaturally intense considering their situation. "What?"

Again his hand rubbed across his scalp and he cocked his head. "You've been…" she would've laughed, it wasn't like Jean-Luc to trail off mid-sentence, but his eyes lost their focus. His expression faltered, turned serious. "You…" Silence prevailed, but he only allowed it a short victory, then grumbled. "You've been working hard, you should take some rest first." That wasn't what he'd intended to say, she knew him well enough.

"As long as we can't dream, rest won't help. I'd better head back to… uhm?" This was getting to be annoying.

"Sickbay."

"Right. Data, right." She had to return to sickbay to… to do some more tests. "I'll let you know as soon as I find something."

"Thank you, doctor." They nodded while Data remained as unmoving as a statue. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes before leaving the room.

During the short trip to sickbay, she tried to come up with a list of tests, but every few meters, she'd forget half of it. The lobby on deck twelve was empty and, now that she thought about it, so were the corridors. She'd expected the entire crew to show up at her doorstep as the symptoms continued to worsen.

The screen spun in front of her eyes as she desperately tried to compile a list of all the necessary tests. The three key questions: how, why and in what way?, were crystal clear in her mind. Her professors had beaten those question into her during her Academy days. Maybe so much so that even amnesia couldn't defeat them. They offered a welcome anchor.

**# # #**  
Another day had passed since her decision to give the senior staff and other personnel in charge of departments, stimulants. Hoping it would allow them better functioning. In the worst case scenario, Data could take command, perhaps he could even keep the ship running on his own. More doubtful was his ability to also conduct the necessary medical tests to find a solution for their predicament.

So, it came down to one Beverly Crusher, chief medical officer.

The next hypospray screamed at her from the edge of the tray. Her nerves were shattered and each hour her concentration slipped further away. As a doctor she knew how important REM sleep was, but it was something else to actually experience it. Every sound made her jump and she nearly screamed when Alyssa laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Captain Picard is asking for another dose of stimulant."

Beverly's eyes flicked back to the hypo. Jean-Luc's last dose had been three, no, two hours – hers had been four, or was it five? hours ago. She needed it more. If she made a mistake, people would die. He was the captain, he… "Wait another hour, then give it to him."

The nurse nodded, brown eyes skittishly glanced to the prone form of the sole surviving crewmember of the Britain. "It's eerie." Alyssa indicated Troi, who had been sitting next to the rescued Betazoid for hours on end.

Patients and staff were unnerved by the lack of verbal communication. It was clear that in spite of the utter silence, plenty was being said. The Betazoid, Andros Hagen, had been cata- catatonic since they'd found him, but Deanna was determined to get through to him.

There _was_ something ghostly about telepathic communication, but she often found her gaze drifting back to the two aliens during the tests. She felt better having the counselor here, as if her mere presence would somehow keep all of them sane.

She didn't feel particularly sane.

Again she eyed the hypo. Maybe it would do away with the images of Deanna, naked. "No," she mumbled, "no more," too much st… stimulant was harmful. But she felt so frayed.

"Doctor?"

"Huh? Oh, yes." Blushing she read the data on her tricorder, trying to make sense of the little numbers and symbols. "Right, uh, mister Barclay."

The man looked at her with anxiety that couldn't all be written off to the lack of dreams. "I-I'm g-going to die, aren't – aren't I?" On the best of days the hypochondriac engineer tested her patience. Quickly she glanced back over to lieutenant Homes, who patiently underwent yet another brain scan. So far, none of their treatments had any effect.

Beverly sighed. "You're fine Broccoli, just slowly going insane like the rest of us." Ignoring the engineer's halting complaints, Beverly headed over to the two silent Betazoids in the corner. Deanna looked as tired as she felt and it took the counselor a few moments to notice her. She wondered, while waiting for Troi to turn around, if they'd die in the same way the crew of the Brattain had. And if so, would Deanna become catatonic? Already it was clear the younger woman was feeling the strain of the stress around her.

"I'm sorry Reg is such a pain." Even now the Betazoid looked beautiful and it was only by virtue of weeks of practice that Beverly could hold back the hug she wanted to give.

"That's all right, he's only been in here twenty or thirty times." Troi's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, nor did Crusher's. "We need to talk." Damn it, why did she have to blurt that out? Should've taken the damn hypo. "Sorry, I didn't mean… just when, if, we get out of this… this rift, we should talk." Very smooth Crusher, definitely losing your mind.

Deanna looked at her, scrutinizing her feelings with wide eyes, black as the space they were trapped in. "Yes," she replied at length, "yes we do."

"Okay, good. I'll just, erm, go back, you know, my tests." Quickly she turned, almost running to the main hall, her stomach tying itself in Gordian knots.

The tests went on for another hour and each minute her concentration and hope dwindled a little further. Her hands started shaking fifteen minutes ago and she felt weak. Perhaps she should eat something, but then the mere thought of food made her nauseous. The neurotransmitter beeped excitedly with each new byte of data. She wanted to kick the damn thing. It wasn't like the information was getting them anywhere.

She couldn't run to her quarters and hide, but she certainly wanted to. Everyone who entered sickbay stared at her, demanding answers when she was still pondering the questions. All the scans were inconclusive, except those that merely confirmed what she already knew.

And while stimulants provided some respite for a small part of the crew, she knew it was nothing more than a delay. If she didn't find a way to block the interference, they would all die much sooner than any one of them cared for.

Right now, it seemed inevitable.

She noticed Deanna coming towards her and suddenly couldn't contain her fears anymore. "Deanna, nothing's working. I've tried somatic drugs, I've tried inducing theta waves in the

entorhinal cortex... no matter what I do, no one can reach REM sleep. No one can dream, except you!"

Troi snorted and turned her troubled eyes to the crewmember on the biobed. "Except me. And all I have is nightmares." The tremble in her voice almost cracked. "I can barely sleep at all anymore." The universe was jerking them around once again. She could sleep, but not dream. Troi could dream, but not sleep. "In the end," she followed the empath's gaze, eyes coming to rest on a patient already beyond her help, "I'll be like him. Just like him."

Silence came and conquered. She wanted to comfort, give hope, but came up short. There were no reassurances she could provide, she could barely keep up the semblance of hope for herself.

Deanna, as always, appeared to understand her frustrations and smiled thinly. When a hand touched hers, she returned the smile in kind; dreadful. "Maybe you should give sleep another go? The nightmares might have stopped."

Deanna's smile turned wry, "Somehow I don't think so. No, I'll just stay here and suffer with the rest of you." They both grinned – genuinely – and selfish as it was, it was a relief not to be left alone.

_Tbc…_


	16. Chapter Ten d: Night Terrors

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Ten d – **Night Terrors  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **T**  
_Codes:_ C, T, P, D  
_Chapter summary: _Troi figures out the answer to their problem and ends up in sickbay for doing so. Finally it's time for bed and Beverly can dream again, but whether that's a good thing?

_A/N:_ I know it's been a while and I sincerely apologize. I'm currently doing a fulltime internship and as it turns out I actually have a social life, leaving me with less time to write than I originally thought. I want to thank everyone for reviewing because without those reviews, this chapter might have taken even longer! There is also good news: there are two chapters left to this story and the current one is going to be the last to deal with onscreen canon.  
And while I'm at it; I've found a lovely and skilled Beta who's really helped out in getting this chapter posted and in setting up coming plotlines, so do stay tuned (and send her some cookies)!

Chapter ten d: "Night Terrors"

Beverly looked up from the latest test results to see lieutenant Worf and a tired looking Betazoid enter. "I take it the plan to...," damn it, what was the plan? Something with a deflector-something… "Wasn't successful then?" Worf's sour expression was all she needed. "What happened?"

A look passed between her two crewmates, one she couldn't decipher. There was something curious about the small Betazoid leading the big Klingon into sickbay. Worf followed without growling and they were holding hands!

"Nothing, the energy released by the deflector dish wasn't enough to break us free." Deanna answered calmly as she released the Klingon's hand. "Worf isn't feeling well."

The security officer straightened to his full height and huffed, as if Troi had somehow subdued him merely by physical contact.

"Very well, let me have a look."

The tall lieutenant stepped back. A little flustered, she held her ground. Now was hardly the time to let fear take over.

Deanna remained at their sides, diligently watching over each test and result. Whatever had happened to Worf, the counselor obviously felt compelled to keep watch over him. Unfortunately, neither of them had the luxury of devoting all their time and energy to a single patient. Far too quickly for anyone's liking, Troi was called back to the Bridge by the captain. "All right big guy," Crusher said as she put her medical tricorder back in the pocket of her lab coat, "you stay here and relax. My remaining brain cells and I will go figure out what's wrong."

**# # #  
**Unfortunately, those remaining brain cells simply weren't up to the task before them. She'd figured out the nature of the crew's symptoms, but the cause still remained a mystery. No cause meant no cure. Crusher sighed and stared at the patients scattered throughout sickbay. They needed her to help them, but she was running out of ideas and fake smiles.

"Beverly!" The call for attention jolted her fragile control, and her heart hammered in her throat, drumming in her ears. "I know what it is! I know what is happening!"

The doctor took a deep breath and slowly released it. "What?"

"My nightmare, it's not a dream, it's not a dream at all!" Why did the counselor have to speak so loudly? It wasn't helping her headache any. And since when were dreams not dreams? If only she _could_ dream. "It's a message!"

A message? About what? A grocery list? Birthday wishes? That made no sense. Very little made sense at the moment. "We'd better talk to the captain." Hopefully he felt a little more together than she did. Deanna didn't look too good either. Perhaps the Betazoid had started to hallucinate as well?

That kind of thinking wouldn't get them anywhere, she reminded herself while following Troi through the ship. _The empath did have a nice ass_. She blushed. Perhaps this was an hallucination as well. Maybe it was even a dream?

Unfortunately it wasn't.

Was it? Needing some reassurance, Bev did the only sensible thing: she pinched herself.

"Ow!" _That hurt!_ She rubbed her arm, the red left by her pinch slowly fading away.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, not feeling well at all. Kissing Deanna would've been a much better way to figure out whether she was dreaming or not. "I'm fine."

It was clear Deanna didn't believe her, and why should she be expected to? No one felt well, except for Data. She'd seen so many crewmembers with wild, ringed eyes and shaking hands. She could hardly expect herself to be immune, but she wanted to. The loss of self-control scared her more than death did. She wouldn't mind trading places with the empath. The half-alien looked undeniably exhausted, but at least she wasn't hallucinating or shaking.

The lift smelled stuffy; perhaps the oxygen supply system had failed? There was only a skeleton crew in engineering; they could easily miss a blinking red light or two! And if the backup system failed as well... The lift was large enough to hold six people, so they had plenty of air for now.

If they became trapped however... all non-essential crew was confined to the shelter areas of the ship. No one wandered through the corridors, ready to run into a malfunctioning turbolift. The engineers could easily miss another red light! Dying in a turbolift wasn't exactly a high priority on her to-do list. Though the company could've been worse.

"Beverly?"

"Oh gods!" Deanna stood doubled over, hands clutching her throat, her beautiful face already turning a sickly blue. How did this happen so quickly? Granted they weren't in a safe area, but surely Jean-Luc would've given another warning before turning off life-support?

Deanna gagged, visibly struggling to cope with the lack of air. Betazoids had larger lungs and needed more air than humans did, but it couldn't be long before she'd start to asphyxiate as well; she had to do something quickly! She had to save Deanna!

"Computer, halt!" Her lungs too started to struggle against her ribcage, trying to suck in more precious air. She'd never felt so relieved as she did the moment the doors opened and fresh air rushed in.

She reached back to help Deanna, but found the counselor in perfect health and clearly confused. "Beverly, what's wrong?"

Timidly she glanced around the small cabin, the doors still closed and the air just fine. "Sorry." She really, _really_ hated this. "Just a hallucination." Troi nodded, but didn't otherwise comment. "Computer, resume."

Beverly didn't dare look at the other woman. The last time she'd felt this stupid had been after her warp-bubble experience. Why did she always end up trying to save illusions?

They stood closer together now, neither of them smiling. Deanna's black eyes were compassionate without judgment or pity. She was grateful for that, all the while desperately hoping that the counselor's dreams did hold the key to their survival.

When they entered the ready room, she'd expected the entire senior staff to be there waiting for them. Instead only Data and Jean-Luc occupied the room. The absence of the others unnerved her and though she took a seat, she felt too jumpy to sit still and resorted to pacing in the background. Jean-Luc's usual composure had completely cracked, exposing an anxious and distraught old man. She'd never thought of him as old before. He tried to listen to Deanna's impassioned speech while keeping himself occupied by getting drinks from the replicator. Like her, he couldn't keep his focus long enough to understand. "REM sleep occurs at a different frequency for Betazoids than other humanoids... I believe these beings are using that frequency to communicate telepathically." Beverly figured only Data, collected, unaffected Data did. Poor Deanna.

"It is conceivable that this telepathic communication is creating an interference in the REM sleep of other species," the android's words might well be Iconian. The second she thought she might understand what he was trying to say, she'd forgotten what he said at all. "That would explain why the rest of the crew is not dreaming."

Dreaming. She wanted to dream. She really, really wanted to dream.

"Counselor... what are these -- beings -- trying to tell us?" Picard's question surprised her. Perhaps she'd misjudged his appearance after all. He did appear to be able to follow Deanna's explanation. So why couldn't she?

"They're calling for help. I think they're trapped just like we are. "Eyes in the dark"... could mean this twin star system" This time she tried even harder to listen to the counselor's words. Staring over the woman's shoulder was perhaps not the best move however, as her eyes quickly distracted the little bit of rational thought she had left. Had the neckline of Deanna's uniform always been _that_ low?

"Your hypothesis is certainly plausible." She glanced at Data. What hypothesis? The android turned to the small monitor on the desk, trying to show them something. Already her eyes were back on Troi. Her dark curls were a mess. As if she'd just woken up after a rough night. Or an intimate one. Beverly blushed.

"It may well be that there is another ship on the other side of the fissure where we cannot detect it."

Enough talk of other ships, she just wanted to get out of this horrible world of fears and jumbled thoughts! "Is there a way we could block their signals?" Her interruption was forceful. Perhaps a little too forceful. Data and Troi stared at her as if she'd gone mad. It certainly felt like she had.

"There is no technology to block telepathic transmissions, Doctor." She hated his calm voice, reminding her too acutely of her own shortcomings.

"Maybe... communication through dreams can work both ways." Gods she hoped not! If she'd accidentally been communicating her dreams to Deanna… Beverly gulped. At least she hadn't dreamt in a while. There was the silver lining she'd been looking for. "I could try to get them to stop."

"Perhaps we can accomplish more than that. If there is another ship and we can reach then, we might be able to coordinate our efforts to free ourselves." Eying the android, she suddenly realized that this was it. Whatever Deanna had discovered, there was hope of getting free again!

"It is conceivable... when working with patients with debilitating nightmares, I have often used a therapeutic treatment known as "directed dreaming"." The focus on Jean-Luc's face almost made her laugh. He looked so intently, desperate to understand the conversation she'd already given up on. She admired that about him. He would always try, not matter how difficult the situation. She found it easier to hide behind her fears when she felt helpless. "Dreamers can learn to take control of their dreams... retain a conscious memory... even while in REM sleep. I could remember a short message and deliver it to them." Her eyes fell on the empath again. That was really what she was doing, wasn't it? Running away from her feelings because she didn't know how to act on them. If she was anything like Jean-Luc, she would at least try.

"If it were possible... what would you say... ?"

_Tell her I love her_, she answered the captain's question silently and the longer the silence lasted, the harder it was not to speak her thoughts out loud. Deanna looked so downtrodden, she just wanted to cheer her up, tell her things would be okay. Instead she said nothing.

"Perhaps…" Jean-Luc paused, fumbled with his collar and continued, "Data, Counselor, perhaps you can think of a, a message. Doctor, can you help the counselor get her message across?"

What message? Confused she looked at Deanna and remembered. "Yes. I can put her to sleep. Ehm, in REM sleep. I think."

"Very well, let's hope this plan will work."

With a nod Data and Deanna left the ready room, leaving her behind with Jean-Luc. Uneasy in her presence, she played with the hem of her coat. "What happened with the other plan?" She asked at least. There had been another plan, hadn't there?"

"It didn't work."

"And this one?"

He looked at her frankly, lucidly even. "It better."

**# # #  
**Somehow, knowing that there was another ship trapped with them, Doctor Crusher felt as if she was being watched. Who knew how advanced those aliens were? On one hand they'd been able to detect the Enterprise, even make contact. On the other hand, they were still trapped, just like them. She wondered if Deanna knew anything at all about them. Surely the empath would at least have a faint impression of their neighbors?

Speaking of the devil… "We found it!"

Beverly smiled, wondering what the counselor had been looking for. "That's good."

Smile broadening, Troi suppressed a yawn. "Yes, yes it is." They stared at each other.

"What did you find?"

She could tell by the look on Deanna's face that her question was hardly a surprise. Apparently she hid her messed-up mind even worse than she'd thought. "Hydrogen."

"Water?"

There was a nod and a smile that eased her embarrassment a little. "Yes. We'll shoot it out in space and the aliens will make it explode."

"That can't be good." Explosions were never good. They destroyed, injured, killed. A hand on her arm halted her thoughts. She looked into black eyes.

"It'll be okay Beverly. We'll be free." Free was good. Did she look as terrible as Deanna? She chuckled, aware that she probably looked even worse. "The captain asked for another dose of stimulant."

The doctor shook her head. "No, he really shouldn't."

"It's his ship, Beverly. He wants to stay awake." That was understandable, though as a physician she had to note the risk of injecting Jean-Luc with more drugs still. "You should go to your quarters, your last dose must be almost ineffective now. I'll ask Selar to set me up."

What was it with this running assumption that her colleague was somehow better equipped than she was to deal with the situation? Selar may be a Vulcan, but she was the chief of medicine and more than that; Deanna was her friend – or something. "I've taken another dose, it'll tide me over."

There was a hint of reproach in Deanna's dulled eyes, but the counselor smiled with relief. "All right. Give me five minutes to prepare and I'll be with you."

_Be with me?_ "Oh… okay." She'd thought that working as closely with Deanna as she had the last three weeks would quickly provide her with reasons not to follow her feelings for the other woman. Instead, she found her worries slowly fading away. In spite of a few questionable hallucinations and her own wandering thoughts, their cooperation had been professional, pleasant and easygoing.

She watched Troi take a seat next to the catatonic Betazoid, feeling like somewhat of a voyeur, but unable to look away. She was beautiful. Beverly sighed, too tired to worry about the conflicting emotions inside her.

She was still watching when Deanna pushed back her chair and looked in her direction. Blushing, Beverly quickly glanced away, not turning back until spoken to. "I'm ready."

With a nod, she gestured towards the nearest biobed and ignored the sexy smile playing around the empath's pale lips. Tucking back a wayward strand of hair, Beverly pulled what little concentration she had left together to explain how she would keep watch over her friend. "I can help keep you in REM sleep for a while with this cortical stimulator. It will keep the electrical activity in your brain at the proper frequencies."

Deanna lay down, and Beverly attached the electrodes to the woman's temples with trembling hands. She was about to say something, anything, to chase away the threads of fear in Dea's eyes, when a commbadge interrupted the silence. While rubbing her temples to ease the stinging headache, she tried to focus on the message.

"Counselor. You will have to communicate with the other ship within two minutes of entering REM sleep."

Deanna's eyes widened, sharing Crusher's disbelief. "Two minutes? Is that really all, Data?"

Data's disembodied voice was bereft of emotion, yet she thought she detected a hint of worry among the even tenor tones. "Unfortunately, yes. We have only enough power to emit a hydrogen stream for that period of time. They must understand that they have to detonate it immediately."

"Are you alright Beverly?"

"I'm fine," she lied. The headache could apparently no longer be appeased with the impromptu head massages. With the amount of stimulants in her body, painkillers could have severe side effects and so she was stuck trying to keep up with the goings-on around her through a haze of pain.

She could tell the counselor didn't believe her, but it hardly mattered. Either Deanna was going to be successful and get a message through to the aliens, or they would all die. The high pitch signal to announce a ship wide communiqué really didn't help either her anxiety or headache.

"This is Acting Captain Data. All personnel will report to designated shelter areas immediately. Life support systems will continue only in emergency shelter areas."

So Jean-Luc was too far-gone to hold the reigns. She knew instinctively that she wasn't far behind herself. "Here it goes," she muttered, waiting for Troi to nod her consent before activating the cortical stimulator. It took only twenty seconds for the empath to drift off to sleep. Unable to help herself, she observed her friend. The lines on her usually flawless face were hard to miss, but she nonetheless found herself enthralled by the woman, her headache fading to a low drum.

With a shake of her head she forced her thoughts back to the medical tricorder in her hands. She had to keep a close watch on Troi's readouts to make sure the counselor was entering REM sleep. Still, her eyes kept drifting back to Deanna's face. _Now is not the time Howard_. With difficulty she focused enough to read the tiny, dancing lines of information on her screen. To keep up with the continuous feed, she read it out loud to herself. How could it be this hard to concentrate? "PGO signals steady... visual cortex is showing increased activity... rapid eye movements commencing..."

Beneath closed lids Deanna's eyes moved quickly from side to side. She was definitely in REM sleep, but would she be able to convey the message? Somehow, Beverly doubted it. Directed dreaming was a long shot and the added stress probably didn't help Troi much. She sighed. At least they were trying something. Now if only the aliens understood…

"Damn."

Even if Deanna was successful, it wouldn't matter much if she didn't tell Data to activate the hydrogen beam. Her hand missed when she reached for her communicator, but thankfully she got it on the second attempt. "Crusher to Bridge. She's in REM sleep."

"Thank you, Doctor." She nodded to no one in particular and took a deep breath, before settling in the chair next to the biobed. She was content to watch Troi while the fate of the ship was decided. There was nothing else for her to do.

**# # #  
**Beverly woke up suddenly and found herself laying half across Deanna's stomach. Below her, the ship trembled and lurched. It took a few seconds for her mind to catch up, but they were moving! Actually moving for the first time in almost three weeks. It meant… it must mean… what did it mean?

Glancing up at Troi's face the events of the past weeks came crashing back to her. Deanna must have succeeded in getting the message across! They were free! Quickly she disconnected the electrodes attached to Troi's temples. With bated breath she then waited for the counselor to wake up.

It had been a few minutes since she'd disengaged the cortical stimulator, and rationally speaking, it wouldn't surprise her if Troi didn't wake up for a while yet. Like the rest of them, the empath was exhausted. Still, she'd feel better if Deanna would verbally confirm she was all right. The medical scans said she was, but telepathic contact – especially with an unknown species – could be hazardous in unexpected and hard to detect ways.

Thankfully, Deanna seemed to sense her distress and those beautiful eyes slowly opened. "Hey."

She smiled with relief. "Hey. How are you?"

The answer didn't come straight away. Instead, Deanna seemed to read something invisible in a way that reminded her of Data running a self-diagnostic. "I'm fine," Deanna answered a few seconds later. "We're free, aren't we?"

"Yes." She wanted to say something else, but was interrupted by the high-pitched drawl of the communication system.

"This is Acting Captain Data. We have broken free of the Rift and are underway to Starbase 221. I recommend that all personnel return to their quarters and sleep. Data out."

"He's right," Beverly concluded. Everyone had suffered, but now it was time to start healing as quickly as possible. She ordered the remaining two nurses to bed while Deanna checked in on Hagan. It was unlikely that the catatonic Betazoid would spontaneously recover now that the aliens had left. The man had likely sustained lasting trauma and a quick recovery was highly doubtful. By the pensive look on Deanna's face, she could tell the counselor had come to the same conclusion. She offered a small smile and briefly touched her friend's shoulder in an attempt to offer support.

Troi matched her smile with an equally wan one. "Time for bed."

"Yes," Beverly agreed, "yes it is."


	17. Chapter Eleven: Intermission

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Eleven – **Intermission****  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **M**  
_Codes:_ C, T  
_Chapter summary: _All those pent-up emotions aren't going to be denied forever…

**====  
****Chapter Eleven: Intermission  
====**

A persistent chime disturbed Beverly in her sleep, penetrating through the haze of utter exhaustion to wake her from a much-needed rest. Groggily she made her way to the doors, bringing up the lights to avoid tripping over any furniture and cursing her visitor for waking her up.

When the doors opened, the curse died on her lips. "Deanna."

"Can I come in?"

She studied the woman for a second, noting the rings of exhaustion around her eyes. Was she suffering from side effects of her contact with the aliens? Worried, she stepped back. Deanna walked past her, blue skirt swishing around her legs. For a second Beverly was distracted by her friend's shapely figure. She swallowed and forced her thoughts back on neutral territory. "Are you all right?"

Troi halted and turned to face her, her sudden stop putting them close together. "No."

Anxiety rising, Beverly reached for her tricorder and pulled the device from the pocket of her nightclothes. Before she could open it, Deanna's fingers closed around her wrist and the device disappeared. "I'm not sick Beverly."

"Oh." She'd gazed into the empath's deep black eyes by accident and now found herself unable to look away. Deanna's fingers held her lightly, but nonetheless felt like steel chains. "What's wrong?" And why was her mouth suddenly so dry?

"This is." With her free hand Troi gestured at the two of them. "I don't want this awkward friendship."

Beverly straightened her back, anxiety blossoming in her belly to the point of making her nauseous. She tried to hide it, putting on a disinterested front. "What do you want?"

Never in a million years would she'd have seen it coming. It just wasn't like Deanna. Deanna was sweet, patient, almost passive. But not so now. Now the younger woman used the grip on her wrist to pull her closer. Now she pressed soft lips against Beverly's before Crusher had a chance to object or even realize what was happening. Now hands let go of her wrist and instead locked around her neck, pulling her closer against Deanna's mouth for a moment. "I know you want me," Deanna announced plainly, "I want you too."

She couldn't deny Deanna's accusation, and it was not because of the feverish kiss the woman assaulted her with, or because of her own reaction to it, but simply because it was the truth. Though one she hadn't meant to acknowledge.

Her body, on the other hand, was all too eager for what her mind had been fighting. It responded to the empath with an urgency, an electricity she'd never experienced before. Need clouded her thoughts, blurred everything but the warmth of Troi's body against hers.

She couldn't get enough of the way Deanna tasted. Lips crushed together, tongues dancing in her mouth, then in Troi's. Hands raked across her back and lower. She let her own run over slender arms and full breasts, exploring the hidden pleasures of the younger woman's body.

She shuddered when Deanna found her way under her clothes, sneaking up under the hem of her shirt to drag sharp nails across her belly. Her body pulsed beneath the touch, already aching for more.

Their kiss broke and she whimpered of loss, breath halting when that hot mouth lavished her throat with kisses and sucked on the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Dea…" In the dark of her quarters she couldn't make out the Betazoid's face, only those dark eyes, gleaming in the starlight.

Eager for another taste, Beverly tangled her fingers in dark curls and tried to pull Deanna's mouth to hers, muttering in frustration when the empath resisted. "Deanna, please."

Fingers found her face, trailing paths of fire along her cheek before teasingly rubbing across her bottom lip. In a flash of playfulness she closed her mouth around them, the slightly salty taste enticing, but still a poor substitute for what she really wanted.

Apparently sensing this, Deanna rose and kissed her with a passion that threatened to consume her. So caught up in their kiss, Beverly didn't notice fingers taking hold of her wrists and pinning them against the wall above her head until Deanna broke the contact once more. "Patience, love." She heard the smile, saw the glint in Troi's eyes and suppressed a moan. A burst of anticipation accompanied a shiver of anxiety.

What was the Betazoid planning?

They stood flush together now. Her back against the wall, her front basking in the heat of Deanna's body. One hand held her wrists; another traced the neckline of her shirt and teased the curves of her breasts. The ache in her belly spread and she arched into the touch. Her eyes fell shut when fingers found the sensitive peaks and teased. This was pure torture. She needed so much more.

The other hand, the one that had held her wrists, played with the waistband of her pants, but still she couldn't move her arms. Her mouth was dry, lips parched with arousal. Other parts of her flushed and wet with desire. She wanted to touch, but couldn't. She could only stand there and let Deanna's ministrations wash over her.

Cool air rushed over her heated flesh when her shirt fell away, a gasp rising from her throat but swallowed with surprise when hot, wet lips found her nipple and lavished it with kisses and little sucks. She whimpered instead, straining against whatever held her pinned in place, then froze.

A long fingered hand – Deanna's hand – snuck below the waistband of her pants.

Her whole body was on edge. Muscles tense, vibrating with the wicked pulse of desire, beating to the drums of Deanna's touches. Beverly released a tremulous breath. Waiting, but unwillingly so. After a pause that might as well have lasted years, the almost ghostly fingers inched lower. All her attention was focused on the small areas of contact between her own skin and the tips of those torturous fingers. Everything else became an afterthought.

Beverly held her breath and closed her eyes, tried to relax into the intimate touch. Deanna radiated confidence, love, desire that warmed her, enveloped her in a protective shell while further feeding her arousal. The drum slowed to a deep thud, its enslavement of her complete. She felt its pulse everywhere and all she wanted, needed was release. "Please Dea," her voice was barely a whisper, if even that, "please…" but it was heard nonetheless.

She heard Deanna's guttural moan before she felt the intrusion. Her breath caught, then flowed from her with a throaty growl when the drum became an orchestra, playing her body like a violin, each string vibrating, trembling with the strokes of impossibly long fingers.

Teeth nipped her ear sharply, breaking through the eager tension. A voice whispered, fingers stroked, possessed and glowing black eyes watched as she lost control and screamed.

Beverly sat up straight, her body clammy with sweat, tense with unfulfilled desire. _What the hell?! _The presence lingered and when she turned she fully expected to see Deanna. Instead there was only emptiness and the embarrassing realization that she'd been dreaming. Again. Dropping back onto the pillows she was only too aware of her body, not as convinced it had been a dream as her mind was. Trembling still, she eased her hands across her skin in an effort to do away with the maddening sensitivity. Time for a shower.


	18. Chapter Twelve: Conclusion

_Title:_ **Parterre** Chapter Twelve – **Conclusion****  
**_Author:_ Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)  
_Series:_ TNG  
_Chapter_ _rating:_ **M**  
_Codes:_ C, T  
_Chapter summary: _In the aftermath, Beverly makes a decision that leaves her standing on the threshold of Deanna's quarters, the question remaining: will she take the step, or turn back?  
_Author's note:_ this is the final chapter of Parterre and I want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing. Special thanks of course, to my Beta who's been instrumental in getting me to finish this. No worries though, the sequel is already in progress, expect the first chapter sometime around Christmas and in the meantime, please don't hesitate to leave reviews. I print them and hang them above my bed.  
Well, I don't, but that's how much I love them ;)  
Thank you all for your patience and time and see you in December!

**====  
Chapter Twelve: Conclusion  
====**

Why had she come here? Peering through the circle of glass she watched the solitary figure in Ten Forward. She tried to shake the images of her dreams. Desire wrapped in a tight blue dress, skilled fingers and hungry lips teasing, tasting, possessing… Beverly released a tremulous breath and quickly backtracked to the turbolift, ready to return to her quarters.

Halfway there however, she changed her mind. Again. If she didn't talk to Deanna now, she never would. In spite of their precarious situation, she'd really enjoyed working so closely with Troi the last few weeks. Then when the other woman had lain on the biobed, saving their butts, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about touching her.

Finally she was ready to admit what she'd felt for months, or longer – an undeniable attraction to the lovely half-Betazoid. Mentally kicking herself she stepped into the empty lounge before she could change her mind again. Immediately Deanna turned around. She was sitting at the center table, framed in the viewports and streaks of stars beyond them.

With her heart beating nervously in her chest, she forced herself to pull up a chair. "You should be sleeping," she chastised half-heartedly.

"So should you."

Rather than reply, she took a whiff of the bottle on the table and recoiled. "This is real!"

Troi chuckled and took another sip from her glass. "Want some?"

She considered it. The scent, though surprising, hadn't exactly been that bad and after the dreams she'd had, she could use a drink. "Sure." While Deanna stood up to get a glass from one of the heavy-duty replicators, she tried to compose herself with slow, deliberate breaths. It worked and she was able to accept the glass with a genuine smile. "What are you doing here?"

The empath shrugged noncommittally. "I'm enjoying the silence." The Betazoid was dressed in her burgundy semi-uniform and had probably been here for a while. She certainly didn't look like she'd gotten any sleep. Beverly felt strangely overdressed in her sky blue blouse and black fitted trousers.

"It's eerie, isn't it?" The ship was never this quiet. Though state-of-the-art technology, it required round the clock maintenance to keep all the different systems running smoothly. Ten Forward especially was never empty; there was always some part of the crew just off duty and socializing.

Now, only Data, Troi and herself were awake. In main engineering, Geordi was sleeping on a stretcher, just in case. It wouldn't be long before the first crewmembers were forced to rise and tend to the Enterprise's needs. She grinned; the ship really was a mistress, constantly needing attention.

Her thoughts halted as soon as she noticed Deanna looking at her with an amused twist of her lips. Caught. "The ship isn't silent to you though, is it?" Her diversion appeared to work. Deanna turned her eyes back to the stars outside.

"No, but it's different now that everyone is asleep and dreaming."

"What does it feel like? The dreams, I mean," she clarified hastily. The beverage, whatever it was, tasted a little like red wine – full and distinct in flavor, slightly fruity with a definite alcoholic burn. Typically Deanna_._ It was, however, quite nice, she concluded after a few careful swallows. Troi's glass was already empty.

"Diffused," the answer came just when she no longer expected it. "Hazy. Have you ever tried a Bolian meditation pipe?" She had to answer that with a negative. A Bolian meditation pipe? She'd never heard of such a thing. "Starfleet doesn't really approve of them," Deanna offered with an obvious grin in her voice. "They're filled with vegetation found in only two or three places on their home planet. It has a mild hallucinogenic effect, makes you feel as if you're dreaming."

"So, you can sense dreams, but only get a general feel of the emotions of the dreamer?" After refilling her companion's glass, she poured herself another glass as well. The drink really was rather nice and by the taste of it, she didn't think the alcohol content was very high. Besides, she could use something to steady her nerves. She had the sinking suspicion she might soon need the whole bottle, suddenly realizing that the direction of their conversation could lead to a very painful and embarrassing subject.

"Oh no," Troi corrected, "I sense the emotions pretty clearly, especially from people I know well. But there's a delay, as if they have to pass through a thick wall."

Beverly blushed. There certainly was no delay getting to Starbase 'Boy did I set myself up for that'. "So, uhm," she stammered, looking for a graceful change of subject and finding none, "you, well, I mean, you can tell who… what dreams are about?" Under the table, she crossed her fingers.

To no avail. Deanna turned and looked straight at her. Black eyes clear and unwavering. Frank, but without any emotion. "Yes, sometimes."

"Did you, ehm, sense, mine?"

The other woman's expression changed minutely and there was an everlasting pause before she replied, a smirk tugging on red lips. "I could tell what kind of dream you were having." Her cheeks were burning, the blush rising to the tips of her ears. Deanna had felt her dream and even if she only felt a fraction of its intensity… she glanced at the table and gulped down the remainder of the alcohol. What a shame the bottle was already half empty. When she finally found the courage to meet those piercing eyes again, the empath dropped the other proverbial shoe. "I could sense who you were dreaming about too."

Crap, crap, crap, crap, _crap_! The self-satisfied smirk Troi threw her way didn't really help her nerves either. Beverly fumed silently. Within seconds Deanna's expression turned sympathetic, no doubt in reaction to the doctor's troubled state of mind. "Everyone has those kinds of dreams Bev, there's no need to be embarrassed. They don't have to mean anything."

"Well they do," she growled hostilely before catching herself. Double crap. Finally fed up with her own fumbling – she was a grown woman after all – she refused to look away from Deanna's fixed stare, even though her stomach felt as if it was already halfway across the ship.

Deanna's stare softened and she leant back in her chair, hands folded together on the table between them. "What do they mean then?"

Suddenly she just felt so tired. Tired from the tension, tired from the back-and-forth match between her heart and mind. Slumping in her chair she downed another glass and answered, grabbing the bull by its horns as the old Terran expression went. "You can tell how I've been feeling." The only reaction was an almost imperceptible nod, but nothing more. The empath wasn't going to make it any easier for her, it appeared. "We kissed."

"I remember." There was that playful grin again, amusement faint, but noticeable in her companion's gentle voice.

Why wasn't Deanna taking this seriously? "I'm struggling Dea." Her confession was unlikely to be a surprise, but she felt better for admitting it aloud. "You're my friend and we're colleagues and these feelings aren't going away and I wish I could sense how you feel… I don't even know if you feel the same way."

A hand, warm and soft, touched her wrist. She stared, her own skin barely a shade darker than Deanna's. The other woman's fingers were long and slender, perfectly manicured. She blushed, remembering the images from her dreams.

Fighting with herself, it took her a few moments to gather the courage to look up.

When she did, all traces of amusement had left Troi's face. "I do."

Neither of them spoke for long minutes. The weight of the moment was heavy on her shoulders and although there was plenty she wanted to say, she couldn't bring herself to break the safe silence.

Thankfully Deanna did, or they would've been sitting there until the Alpha-shift came off duty. "I'm in love with you Beverly."

She gaped.

They'd said as much just minutes ago, but to hear it spelled out loud and clear felt wholly different. "You seem so calm." It was all she could say, too much of a mess inside to make much sense of the half finished thoughts and intense emotions in her head, swirling around like a flock of birds.

**# # #  
**For three hours they talked through plentiful yawns and an almost equal amount of awkward silences. Still, she hadn't figured things out. Now she was standing out in the corridor. Though 'standing' was a little ambitious.

Deanna was just close enough to the doors of her quarters to trigger them to open. It was time to say goodnight: a highly unappealing prospect. The empath watched her with that same devastating twist to her lips that she'd been sporting most of the night. Perfectly aware, she knew now, of the struggle inside her. She yawned.

Deanna chuckled, stood on tiptoe and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek. Gentle and unassuming, even after the intimate and honest conversation they'd had. "Goodnight Beverly."

"I'm in love with you too," she blurted when the doors started to close.

They did close and she was left alone. Unsure of what to do with herself, she just stood there. Had Deanna even heard her?

But within seconds the doors parted to reveal a beaming raven-haired beauty. All night there'd been a soft glow of affection on Deanna's face. Now the empath was positively radiant: eyes bright and a brilliant smile on her lips. "Do you want to come in?"

Beverly swallowed. "I'd like that."

The lights came up, but just enough to be able to see, for which she was grateful. The combination of alcohol, a lack of sleep and bright lights usually wasn't a good one.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks."

Apparently not thirsty either, Deanna stopped halfway to the replicator and turned to face her. Beverly swallowed again. "Do you want to sit down and talk?"

Now she noticed a playful quality in Troi's soft voice, a seduction that was barely there. "No."

"All right…" Deanna's voice trailed off and she cocked her head. "What do you want?"

_I want to kiss you, touch you, love you._ Her whole body was tingling as if she was drunk. She wasn't. Not on alcohol anyway. The black eyes watching her squinted ever so slightly and followed her as she slowly moved closer.

She was close enough now to make out the tiny wrinkles of exhaustion around the empath's eyes. "Beverly?"

"Deanna." She studied her friend's face and tried to look past the exhaustion. Lips parted, just a little and released a tremulous breath. Before she could rationalize what she was doing, her hand was against Deanna's cheek and their lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss.

Her hesitancy quickly disappeared. The way Deanna felt – tasted – she wanted more, much more. Hands pulled on her hips and she followed without breaking contact. All her remaining worries were pushed into the furthest corner of her mind as simple yearning conquered everything else.

Her fingers tangled into an abundance of dark curls and moist lips parted under her own. The sheer passion behind their hurried kisses weakened her knees and surged through her veins. Their bodies pressed close together, but not close enough.

This soft gentleness couldn't ever be enough. The passion she'd felt building within herself for months demanded to be released. Beverly brought up her other hand and tangled her fingers in long dark tresses. She licked and sucked on wet lips, drawing in cold air when Deanna gasped.

Arms locked around her neck, pulling her closer and a tongue met her own, teasing, fanning the flames burning inside her. They kissed again and again. Wet, openmouthed kisses with promises of so much more. Her hands roamed over the figure that had seduced her months ago.

"I want this," she confessed aloud when forced to break away for air. "I want you." There was a beat, a low drum of silent understanding, before she was pulled back against those moist lips.

It was her turn to gasp when Deanna slid the tip of her tongue along the curve of her ear. Hot, whispered breath caressed the sensitive flesh there, goose bumps travelling all over her. "Come to bed, Beverly."

Soft, slightly swollen lips parted under her own and she slipped her tongue inside, letting it tease against her lover's. The feminine body against her was warm and inviting, the slight pressure of breasts against hers spurred her on, but she wanted more. She wanted to feel naked skin, hot and slick with want like her own. Through a mass of dark curls she found the clasp of Deanna's uniform and released it, feverishly pulling away the fabric, never breaking their kiss.

Too slowly for her liking, skin was revealed. It burned where she touched. Each curve and imperfection was heaven for her fingers as she explored this new and exciting figure. When Deanna backed away from her, she couldn't tear her eyes away. She was enraptured, unable to catch her breath. She reached for the younger woman, but Deanna took her hands and stopped her. Then reached for the catches of her blouse. "Let me."

Deanna was merciless, playing with the buttons with one hand as the other played over her body through the fabric, enjoying the unimpeded access. Her mouth was everywhere: fluttering over her face and ears before attaching itself firmly to pulse points and tonguing its way down her collarbone. She thought she would die when Deanna began nuzzling and kissing her cleavage, nudging the fabric aside as she finally began to undo the rest of her blouse millimeter by agonizing millimeter. She was on the edge of pleading with Deanna for some relief.

Then she froze.

There was a blast, a shockwave like she'd never felt before. The ship rocked beneath her feet, her vision blurred, the room suddenly too bright. Her thoughts were pushed back, reduced to half-finished whispers while other thoughts – thoughts she couldn't understand – ruled her mind.

And below those, feelings.

Thick, lush emotions that rolled through her mind like lazy waves of plasma. Warm and gentle, but almost painful in their unfamiliarity. Desire infused her whole body; every nerve, every thought was doused by it. It was as if someone suddenly dumped liters of scalding hot water on her: painful, but carrying intense warmth.

It took her a few seconds, or minutes, to realize they weren't her own.

The throbbing in the pit of her stomach evolved into drumming that quickly took over. Her temples beat in time with her heart. She felt the drum's seductive vibrations everywhere, from the back of her neck to the tips of her toes. It was desire, but more than that. Love in a way she'd never felt it before. A need so intense she could taste it, but not without losing herself.

She wouldn't have minded feeling like that forever, were it not that all these feelings weren't hers. That underlying knowledge terrified her through the languid warmth they offered. She staggered, balled her fists, even through the thick fog left by the invasion. Unable to move, pinned into place by the drum of someone else's heart, her mind screamed to be left alone, even as the beat continued to seduce her.

As suddenly as it had started, she was alone. She blinked and blinked some more, slowly waking up and forming thoughts again. The room darkened, her mind empty. Alone.

Deanna was staring at her. "Beverly?"

The cautious hesitancy in the empath's voice caught her attention. "What happened?" There was a beat, the kind that signaled a turning point, and Crusher corrected her question. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry."

"What did you do?" She took a step back, Troi didn't follow, choosing instead to cast her eyes down.

"I don't know."

All the little voices that had been quieted throughout the evening came back, strengthened by their forced break. Again Beverly felt torn; only now it wasn't just because of her own fears. What happened seconds before left her aroused, thoroughly warm inside, but she also felt invaded, forced to experience something she wasn't ready for. Though she knew, from thinly veiled hints from Deanna, how the counselor felt, it was a whole different story to actually experience it.

And as she backed away further, out into the empty corridor, trying to get herself together as she went, what scared her most of all was the knowledge – the absolutely certainty – that if she could stop being so afraid, her feelings would be just as strong as Deanna's.

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

She dared meeting those black eyes full with remorse, anger taking possession of her voice, "but it did."

"I don't know how."

"You must've done something, Counselor." A look of hurt crossed the empath's features, but she couldn't feel guilty. She was right.

Though she'd thrown out the accusation merely as a diversion, she realized Deanna must've done _something_ to facilitate that invasion. Few things happened without human intervention. Even weather was man-controlled on many planets nowadays. That the connection minutes earlier happened without any prompting from Deanna was highly unlikely. "I have to go." She turned and ignored Troi's call, picking up speed as she got away from the empath. To her relief the corridors were still deserted.

In the turbolift she caught her breath and waited impatiently for the doors to close, desperate for the sanctity of her quarters, but she'd barely gotten inside when Jean-Luc appeared on the far end of the corridor and headed towards her – quickening his step.

_Close dammit!_ Her silent begging wouldn't help. Rationally she knew sensors in the walls detected his presence, calculated the delay for the people already in the cabin, took notice of the lack of alarm or urgency elsewhere on the ship and decided to keep the doors open a few seconds longer. As soon as he stepped inside the doors closed behind his back. "Bridge."

"You shouldn't return to duty just yet," she cautioned him, trying to sound like her normal, professional self.

"Someone has to do it," Jean-Luc replied, a surprisingly easy-going grin around his mouth. "We can hardly keep letting Data run the ship all by himself – Starfleet might think we're useless. What about you, doctor? House calls, even though you should rest?"

Her heart skipped a beat. What did he know? Or worse: what did he see? "House calls?"

He cocked his head, "I thought I saw you coming from the direction of the counselor's quarters."

Beverly gulped. Why did Troi's quarters have to be at the tail end of the corridor? And why did Jean-Luc have to know the ship's layout by heart? She took a deep breath, stealing herself. Because he was the captain of course, which was exactly why her next lie would only hold up until he reviewed sickbay's reports of this night. "Oh yes, I just wanted to make sure there are no lingering effects from her contact with the aliens."

He nodded with more understanding than she could take from him right now. "And is she all right?"

"Who?"

His chuckle, so familiar, bounced off the turbolift walls, deftly playing with the strings of guilt and fear around her heart.

"Counselor Troi."

"Oh, yes. Yes. She's fine."

"Splendid." The doors opened to reveal the bridge where Data sat primly at the helm. "Perhaps you should get more rest Beverly." In a rare gesture of affection, he briefly touched her shoulder before leaving the small space.

"I will. Deck eight," she ordered, this time remembering with some thankfulness that in spite of all the wonders in the universe, technical or otherwise, she still needed to tell the computer her destination in order to get there.

**# # #  
**Lying restlessly in bed she tried to forget the way Deanna's skin felt against her own. The anger she'd felt in the moments after that link - for lack of a better word - had ebbed away, replaced by paralyzing fear. She knew now how Troi could be so calm, playful even. Deanna's feelings for her were so intense that an almost laconic acceptance of them was the only thing that allowed the Betazoid to deal with the ongoing tension between them.

She couldn't really blame her friend for that, and she believed Deanna hadn't intentionally triggered the connection. Still, what she'd experienced had thrown her completely off balance. Below the desire, the love, there'd been an acceptance. Not of the emotions, but of the situation; a quiet knowledge that those feelings wouldn't be discouraged by a few bumps in the road. That knowledge suffocated her. Deanna Troi loved her. Truly, wholly, and completely, and she doubted her own ability to return those feelings with the same intensity.

Beyond that she felt exposed, stripped entirely of pretenses and white lies. If she'd been able to learn that much about Deanna's state of mind, she couldn't imagine what Troi _didn't_ know about hers. The last of her perceived privacy had been taken from her. She cursed under her breath and tossed under the sheets.

At least now she could finally store her feelings for the Betazoid in a dark corner of her mind, she decided. If something was going to happen between them, it would've happened tonight and obviously it hadn't. Exhaling slowly she turned onto her side and pulled a pillow into her arms. She flatly refused to consider the possibility that something monumental _had_ happened.

An hour later she was still wide-awake, mulling over the last weeks in her head. She wondered guiltily how Deanna was doing. Was the counselor just as wound up as she? Instinctively she knew she wasn't the only one lying awake in an empty bed.

Deanna was probably just as shocked as she was. Probably feeling lonely while Beverly felt betrayed. Sad instead of angry, wanting more instead of wanting to run away. Regret and guilt instead of fear.

She focused her thoughts elsewhere.

On her duty. Yes. Tomorrow she would have to start full crew check-up. But despite her distractions part of her knew how the empath one deck above felt. Every time she gave up on her distractions and tried to pinpoint the sensation however, it disappeared from her conscious mind. The only thing that wouldn't disappear was the knot of guilt in her stomach. Though still angry she knew she'd hurt Deanna. She'd seen it in those soulful black eyes. But there was nothing to be done about it. She'd made her bed and now she was lying in it.

_#fin#_


End file.
